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2 















Raymond Benson Series 


THE KENTON PINES 

OR 

RAYMOND BENSON IN COLLEGE 

By 

C. B. BURLEIGH 

Author of “The Camp on Letter K ” and “Raymond 
Benson at Krampton ” 

Illustrated by L. J. BRIDGMAN 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE: & SHEPARD CO. 


\ / 



Published, August, 1907 





LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

AUG 29 1907 



Copyright 1907, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


All rights reserved 


The Kenton Pines 



Norwood Press 
Berwick and Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass. 

U. S. A. 


r> 2 


to my father 
EDWIN 0. BURLEIGH 
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 






CONTENTS 

CHAPTER p AGE 

I. The Opening Day i 

ii. A New Roommate 15 

III. The Sophomore-Freshman Footbaee Game . 27 

IV. Basebaee Candidates Meet Captain Moody . 41 

V. An Evening at the Amsdens’ .... 56 

VI. An Eventeue Night 68 

VII. A Caee on the Judge * 80 

VIII. Events oe the Freshman Winter ... 93 

IX. Captain Moody Unpeeasantey Surprised . 104 

X. Raymond Has a Triae in the Pitcher’s Box 115 

XI. The Case Men Ceeebrate 125 

XII. A Caee From Woodvieee 137 

XIII. The Vine Day Baee Game 150 

XIV. A Nerve-wearing Game 161 

XV. Oed Kenton Rejoices 172 

XVI. A Seance With “Proeessor” Shyeark . . 184 

XVII. The Beginning oe Sophomore Year . . 200 

XVIII. Episodes oe the Sophomore Faee and Winter 215 

XIX. The Resuets oe a Freshman Insurrection . 227 

XX. The Sophomores on the War Path . . 239 

XXI. A Meeting oe the Coeeege Jury . . .252 

XXII. The Verdict 265 

XXIII. Ned’s Eeigibieity Chaeeenged . . . .277 


VI 


CONTENTS 


XXIV. The Ceose oe Sophomore Year .... 290 

XXV. Earey Incidents oe the Junior Year . . 302 

XXVI. Hazing the Medics 316 

XXVII. A Freshman Gathering — What Foeeowed It 327 
XXVIII. The Passing oe Farnsworth .... 341 

XXIX. In Senior Year 353 

XXX. The Home Stretch 366 

XXXI. Conceusion . 378 



I 


4 



Jf 


if-ftm IRJ3S*. W*m. J 


I < 

' ' fli rt# " 4 


Cheer after cheer rang out on the big field. — Page 167 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


Cheer after cheer rang out on the big field. 


The Sophomores came into view around the corner 
of the Chapel 

A strong hand grasped him by the collar . . . 

“You do as I tell you ; I’m captain of this team” 


Perkins and the professor rolled into one another’s 
arms 


“This bear lived, as I said, in a-a-cave” . . . . 

“I saw Vic knock Prexy Hysom’s hat over his ears” 

They had paused for a moment in the shadows at 
the entrance of the Campus 


Page 

167 

30 

70 

162 

193 

244 

307 

379 


THE KENTON PINES 


CHAPTER I 

THE OPENING DAY 

“ Hurry up, Freshie, you’ll be late! ” 

It was a tall, thin-faced student who thrust his head 
out of a dormitory window to give this cheerful admo- 
nition to Raymond Benson, who was hurrying across 
the campus to attend his first recitation at Kenton Col- 
lege. 

Raymond’s face flushed crimson, but he continued on 
his way without reply. He did not even look in the 
direction from which the voice came. It was better, he 
reflected, not to hear too much. At the same time he 
was conscious of feeling hot and uncomfortable. It 
was an altogether different atmosphere from the one he 
had left at Krampton Academy. There, he had been a 
person of consequence, who took a prominent and active 
part in the affairs of the school, and whose opinions car- 
ried weight. Here, he was made to feel that his views 
of matters in general, and college affairs in particular, 
were of little importance. It made his blood boil to 
note the air of superiority which the Sophomores 
assumed towards the members of his class. He was 


2 


THE KENTON PINES 


oppressed, too, by the vast and critical condescension of 
the members of the two upper classes in their attitude 
towards the newcomers. 

He had been quick to perceive that, as an organiza- 
tion, the Freshmen were held by the other classes, and 
especially by the Sophomores, to be afflicted with a 
dense, almost appalling ignorance, and a verdancy 
which only time, and the pruning-knife of Kenton 
experience, could possibly clear away. 

The separation from Ned Grover, who for years had 
been his close friend and companion, also depressed him. 
He had labored earnestly, but without avail, to persuade 
his old friend to come to Kenton with him. At one 
time he felt that he had carried the day; but at the last 
moment Ned had adhered to the determination formed 
at Krampton, and had gone to Woodville, a college 
located in another state. 

Raymond was almost inconsolable at the loss. He 
had come to Plainsville and taken a room at the Russell 
House, the leading hotel, until he could determine where 
to locate. Although he had arrived in town only the 
day before, half a dozen very affable students from the 
older classes had taken pains to call upon him at his 
room and extend him cordial invitations to visit their 
respective clubs, all of which he had agreed to accept 
at an early date. 

He was trying to reconcile the apparently unaffected 
warmth and sincerity of these men, with the obvious 
college attitude towards his class as a whole, when his 


THE OPENING DAY 


3 


reflections were rudely interrupted by a stream of water 
which descended upon him from the upper floor of the 
dormitory he was passing. Fortunately, he escaped the 
full force of the flood ; but a portion of it hit him upon 
the shoulder and spattered into his face. 

He looked up, pale with anger, in season to catch a 
glimpse of a broad, red face, which leered at him with a 
grin of triumph, as it quickly withdrew from the win- 
dow. 

A sneering guffaw floated through some of the open 
windows, and broad smiles upon the faces of several 
passing students completed his discomfiture. 

The hot blood mounted to his temples. He was thor- 
oughly aroused. 

“ You cowardly cur ! ” he muttered between his set 
teeth. “ I’ll make you pay for that, some day.” 

He took the precaution to retire on the campus 
beyond the range of the window, and, wiping the water 
from his coat with his handkerchief, continued on his 
way to the recitation in anything but an amiable frame 
of mind. 

Arriving at the stately building in which the mathe- 
matical room was located, he found most of his class- 
mates already grouped about its big front door. A few 
of them, whom he had met the previous June, when he 
was at Kenton to take his entrance examinations, recog- 
nized him and greeted him cordially. “ Who is he? ” 
he heard several whisper. “ That’s Benson, the crack 
pitcher of the Krampton team,” was the response, and 


4 


THE KENTON PINES 


Raymond flushed with the gratified consciousness that a 
number of the class were looking him over again with a 
visible increase of respect. 

He found a genuine pleasure in this first meeting with 
his classmates and was most favorably impressed with 
them. They were certainly a bright, intelligent-looking 
crowd of students. He felt a new interest in Kenton 
stirring his pulses. Here at least he was in the house 
of his friends. Here he would find congenial compan- 
ions and sturdy adherents whose aims and aspirations 
were similar to his own, and who would feel a loyal 
interest in him and the part he was to play in the college 
life. Already the atmosphere was beginning to clear 
with the exhilaration that comes to a college man in the 
development and growth of class spirit and friendship. 

A moment later the bell summoned them to the reci- 
tation room, where they found the Professor of Mathe- 
matics awaiting them. He was a tall, spare man with 
thin brown hair. His features were round and full, ter- 
minating in a straggly bunch of chin whiskers some- 
what larger than a goatee. He reminded Raymond of 
pictures he had seen of officers in the War of the Rebel- 
lion, taken in uniform at that period. There was noth- 
ing militant, however, in Professor Carter’s voice, 
which was singularly low and soft. This characteristic 
was rendered more conspicuous by the distinctness of 
his enunciation, and the calm deliberation with which he 
spoke. 

When the members of the class had seated themselves. 


THE OPENING DAY 


5 


he turned to them with a faint smile of friendship. “ It 
is an agreeable privilege, gentlemen, for me to welcome 
you to Kenton,” he said, “ and to express the hope that 
your stay here may be both pleasant and profitable. It 
will be advisable, for purposes of order, that each one in 
future have his own seat. For convenience I will 
arrange the class alphabetically, beginning with the 
front seats at the left. As I call your names you will 
please answer ‘ present,’ and take your places as indi- 
cated.” 

“ Allston, Bailey, Baker, Benson,” came the voice of 
the Professor in a low monotone. As each name was 
called, and its owner came forward to take his place, 
Raymond, who from his position on the front row was 
able to look most of his classmates in the face, endeav- 
ored to fix in mind the features and name of each. 
There were only sixty members in the class, yet, despite 
his tenacious memory, he found that he had undertaken 
no easy task. Still, he was conscious of making a good 
start, and was fully determined that, before the close of 
the week, he would be on speaking terms with all of 
them. 

When the arrangement of the class was completed 
Professor Carter again addressed them. “ There will 
be no recitation to-day,” he sdid. “ I presume you have 
all provided yourselves with the required text-book. 
You will also supply yourselves with mathematical 
paper which you can obtain at the college book-store. 
We will take the next three theorems for to-morrow, in 


6 


THE KENTON PINES 


addition to the two assigned for to-day. I have been 
requested to ask you to remain here for a class meet- 
ing/’ and gathering up his books and papers he left the 
room. 

“ He’s a funny old Cosine,” remarked John Carroll, 
who sat next to Raymond, when the door had closed 
behind the Professor. 

“ Is that what they call him ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Yes, no one thinks of calling him anything else. I 
heard a lot of funny stories about him at the club, last 
night.” 

“ So you belong to one of the secret societies, do 
you ? ” asked Raymond with interest. 

“ Well, in a way,” replied the other, smiling. 
“ None of us will belong to any of them until after the 
initiation. I came here pledged to the Phi Zeta Tau 
Society, so I’m stopping with them. Are you pledged ? ” 

“ Not yet,” said Raymond. “ I’ve had a number of 
invitations to visit the various clubs and I am going to 
do so before I make any decision. I rather thought I 
should like to see them all first.” 

“ You won’t make any mistake, Benson, if you join 
Phi Zeta Tau,” returned Carroll with conviction. 

Raymond smiled. 

“ I’ve been given to understand that that would hold 
true of several of them,” he said. 

“ Who is that fellow taking the chair, Benson ? ” 
whispered Andrew Baker, who sat on the other side of 
Raymond. 


THE OPENING DAY 


7 


“ I’m sure I don’t know — do you, Carroll ? ” 

“ Yes, that’s Kirk Farnsworth. Fitted somewhere 
in New York, I believe. His father’s a * Merchant 
Prince/ or something of the sort.” 

“ So he comes to the chair by inheritance, does he ? ” 
inquired Raymond. 

“ Yes, he’s one of the Lord’s anointed,” returned 
Carroll dryly. 

Raymond could not help admiring the ease and grace 
of Farnsworth, as he stood with cool composure by the 
table on the platform. He was certainly a strikingly 
handsome fellow, tall and straight, with a large, shapely 
head, crowned with heavy dark hair that showed a tend- 
ency to curl. His features were sharply cut and deli- 
cate, with brilliant dark eyes that flashed with a high 
order of intelligence. Certainly this was a magnetic 
and forceful personality — a man who combined nerve 
and push with perfect self-assurance. 

He addressed the class with calm deliberation and 
ready diction. “ I have taken the liberty of calling this 
meeting, gentlemen,” he said, “ because it is necessary 
for us to perfect an organization, at least of a temporary 
character, in order that we may at once make suitable 
arrangements for our contests with the Sophomores. 
To-morrow morning, as you doubtless know, some one 
of us must start a scramble among them by throwing a 
football into their midst as they come out of Chapel. 
Friday afternoon, the two classes will meet in a football 
rush. Saturday morning, a rope-pull will follow 


8 


THE KENTON PINES 


Chapel exercises, and Saturday afternoon, we will meet 
them again at baseball. It is essential, therefore, that 
we at once elect captains for these various events in 
order that they may have as much as possible of the 
short time remaining to perfect their plans and prepara- 
tions.” 

“ The first event, gentlemen, will be the throwing of 
the football. Whom will you select to take charge of 
it?” 

Willis Paxson rose. 

“ I nominate Milton Floyd,” he said. 

“ Mr. Floyd has been nominated to have charge of 
this event,” said Chairman Farnsworth, “ and is it your 
pleasure, gentlemen, that he serve you in this capacity ? ” 

There was no objection, and Floyd was declared 
elected. 

In a similar manner big Victor Evans was chosen 
captain of the rope-pull, stocky Carl Lennox of the foot- 
ball game, and Charley Longley, who had established an 
enviable reputation as a second baseman at the leading 
Kenton fitting school, of the baseball game. 

After the class had adjourned, the members interested 
in baseball remained behind at the request of Charlie 
Longley, who addressed them briefly. “ I believe that 
we have the material to beat the Sophs,” he said, “ but 
in order to do so and to enable me to pick out a fairly 
representative team, it will be necessary that we make 
the most of the limited time remaining for practice. 
We are fortunate in having in our class Mr. Raymond 


THE OPENING DAY 


9 


Benson, the star pitcher of the Krampton Academy 
team, and Mr. Claude Redford, the left fielder and 
change catcher of the Groton High School team. I 
will appoint them to serve as our battery in the game of 
next Saturday, and ask them to get in as much practice 
as possible together before it comes off. I shall hope to 
meet all of you on the ball-field this afternoon at 4.30, 
sharp.” 

As the boys filed into the open air, Longley laid a 
hand on Raymond’s shoulder. 

“ Had you any place in particular to go ? ” he asked. 

“ Only back to my room at the hotel.” 

“ Well, recitations won’t amount to much to-day. 
We have an hour before the next one anyway. Sup- 
pose we stroll down and take a look at the Wentworth 
athletic field. Have you ever seen it ? ” 

“,No,” answered Raymond. “ I should like to very 
much.” 

They passed to the rear of the college buildings, and 
sauntered leisurely through the big pines that were the 
glory of Kenton, and whose shadows reached almost to 
the dormitories on their front. A well-worn path led 
past the gymnasium over the soft brown needles to the 
athletic field, almost a quarter of a mile distant. As 
they entered upon it both turned, as if by a common 
impulse, and stood in silence for a moment looking 
through the line of dormitories to the big campus that 
stretched away on their front, its broad walks fringed 
with noble maples and elms. 


10 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ It’s a beautiful spot/’ said Raymond presently. 

“ Yes/’ assented Longley. “ We should travel a 
long way to find college grounds more delightful or 
picturesque than these.” 

“I suppose this was all a pine growth once,” contin- 
ued Raymond. 

“ Yes, those hardwood trees on the front campus 
must all have been planted there. In the rear of the 
dormitories, however, you see the old growth of pines 
has been preserved. The college owns quite a tract of 
them, and beyond its boundaries they still stretch away 
for miles into the country. The Wentworth athletic 
field was once covered with them ; indeed, a large num- 
ber of them were removed at the time it was built.” 

Continuing their walk the boys crossed a broad street 
running on one side of the campus, and entered another 
growth of pines. 

“ What street was that ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ College street.” 

“ And whose land is this ? ” 

“ Oh, this belongs to the college. We shall have to 
go some distance yet before we get off from Kenton 
soil.” 

They followed the winding path through the trees for 
some distance further, and presently came to the ath- 
letic field. Raymond could not restrain an exclamation 
of delight as they passed through the gate and looked 
out over the enclosure. 

“ It’s all right, isn’t it ? ” said Longley, approvingly. 


THE OPENING DAY 


II 


“ It's grand ! ” replied Raymond, enthusiastically. 

“ I never dreamed there was anything like it here. ,, 

The field was certainly one well calculated to delight 
the heart of an athlete. It was large, oval-shaped, and 
almost as level as a house floor. A fine cinder track 
circled its outer edge. Back of this, on one side, was 
a commodious grandstand. Beyond the high board 
fence was a noble growth of pines, extending around 
one-half of the field, and forming a majestic and strik- 
ing background. The ball ground was laid out in the 
center of the field opposite the grandstand, and its 
closely cropped turf diamond and out-fields, left nothing 
to be desired from a player’s standpoint. 

Raymond stood upon the home plate and looked out 
upon the green exposure in silent admiration. 

“ I wonder if anyone ever made a drive over that 
center-field fence ? ” he asked, presently. 

“ No, I think not,” replied Longley. “ Home runs 
are frequently made over the right-field fence, but it 
would be a tremendous drive that would clear that one.” 

“ So I was thinking,” said Raymond. “ Have you 
a ball?” 

Longley laughed. 

“ I was expecting that question,” he said, as he pro- 
duced a ball, and two well-worn fielder’s gloves from 
his hip pockets. “ Suppose you take the pitcher’s box 
and throw me a few easy ones,” he added, tossing one 
of the gloves to Raymond. 

“ I should think a man couldn’t help doing good work 


12 


THE KENTON PINES 


on a field like this,” said Raymond, as he made his way 
to the box. 

“ It does have its advantages over the average fitting 
school diamond,” assented Longley. “ Here you go,” 
he added, throwing Raymond the ball. 

For a few moments they practiced on easy throws. 
Then in response to Longley’s request to “ steam ’em up 
a little,” Raymond began to drive the ball across the 
plate with a speed that made the Freshman captain open 
his eyes. 

“ There doesn’t appear to be anything the matter with 
that pitching arm of yours,” he laughed. “ Now an 
out. Good! Now an in. That’s a beaut! Now give 
us a drop. Phew! No gravity in that,” he cried as 
he gathered the ball on the ground back of the plate. 
“ Do you throw anything else ? ” 

“ Yes, an in rise and an underhand rise.” 

“ Both good balls if you can control them,” was 
Longley’s comment. “ Let’s try them.” 

A moment later a high in ball nearly took him off his 
feet. 

“ Nasty fellows to catch, though,” he added shaking 
his hands as he returned the ball. “ Now that under- 
hand rise. That’s a peach,” he added as he pulled 
down the ball. “ It comes up to the plate looking as 
big as a balloon, but when a fellow swings on it, it 
isn’t there.” 

“ Yes,” assented Raymond. “ About seven out of 
ten batsmen have a tendency to dip anyway. I have 


THE OPENING DAY 


*3 


found that ball, when used in combination with others, 
about as effective as any I can throw.” 

“ You’re all right, Benson,” declared Longley with 
enthusiasm, “ and if we don’t do up the Sophs, Satur- 
day, I’ll eat my hat.” 

“ I wouldn’t do that,” laughed Raymond. “ It 
would be bad for your digestion.” 

“No danger,” returned Longley confidently, “ I tell 
you we’re going to win.” 

“ I understand they haven’t a very strong team any- 
way,” said Raymond. 

“ That’s true,” assented Longley, “ but then they 
have the advantage of acquaintance and organization. 
That counts for a good deal in athletics.” 

“ By the way, there’s a prize,” cried Raymond, point- 
ing to the corner of the foul-board beyond which the 
handle of a bat protruded. 

Longley hastened to secure it. 

“ We are certainly in luck to-day,” he said. “ Would 
you just as soon knock me a few? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

Longley took his place at second base and Raymond 
was soon delighted with the clever way in which he 
handled the chances given him, gathering up ground hits 
with graceful ease and ranging well into the out-fields 
for fly balls. His throwing, too, was quick and accu- 
rate. He was evidently an experienced player. 

“You’re an old-timer at it,” said Raymond, admir- 
ingly. 


14 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ You owed me that one, ,, laughed Longley. 

“ No, I mean what I say/’ protested Raymond. “ If 
you don’t make the ’Varsity it’s because they have faster 
men on their in-field than I think they have.” 

“ I shall try hard for it, but a Freshman’s chances are 
always more or less dubious,” said Longley modestly. 

“ And I predict that you make it easily,” replied Ray- 
mond confidently. “ Now for that Latin recitation.” 

They made their way back to the campus in season to 
join their classmates in the second recitation of the day. 
Most of the hour, however, was occupied with the seat- 
ing of the class, and in a general outline by the Pro- 
fessor of the ground to be covered. 

At its close the class separated into little groups to 
meet again in the afternoon Algebra recitation. Most 
of the members of the class were already settled in the 
dormitories and Raymond, as he made his way unat- 
tended to his hotel, was oppressed with' a feeling that 
his lack of a room on the college grounds, and his fur- 
ther lack of a fraternity connection, was depriving him 
of some very pleasant associations. 

He went over in his mind the proceedings at the class 
meeting, with a flush of resentment at Farnsworth for 
the part he had borne in it. “ It was all right for him 
to call the meeting to order,” he reflected. “ Someone 
had to do it; but, having done that, he should at least 
have had the grace to permit the class to elect its own 
chairman. He’d have probably got it; but it would 
have looked a mighty sight better.” 


CHAPTER II 


A NEW ROOMMATE 

“ Whither, ’midst falling dew, dost thou pursue thy 
solitary way ? ” 

Raymond stopped short in response to this poetic 
greeting, and turned to meet the towering form and 
friendly face of Charles Mansur, a member of the Se- 
nior class with whom he had picked up a slight acquaint- 
ance. 

“ I’m going down street,” he answered. 

“ I’ll walk along with you then. I’m headed that 
way myself. Where are you stopping? ” 

“ At the Russell House for the present.” 

The tall Senior gave him a searching glance. 

“ Not from choice, I trust,” he said. 

“ No,” laughed Raymond, “ from necessity. I 
expected, until the last minute, that my old roommate 
at the fitting school would come to Kenton with me.” 

“ Went back on you, eh?” asked Mansur sympa- 
thetically. 

“ Well, no, not exactly,” returned Raymond slowly. 
“ He told me last June that he thought he should go to 
Woodville, but I hoped I could persuade him to come 
here. I suppose I was a little over-confident about the 
15 


i6 


THE KENTON PINES 


matter. It was a bitter disappointment to me to lose 
him.” 

“ Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 

The saddest are these ‘It might have been,’ ” 

quoted Mansur musingly. 

“When did you take your entrance examinations ? ” 
he asked abruptly. 

“ Last June.” 

“ Um — yes,” was the Senior’s comment. Then he 
appeared to go into a brown study. For a time they 
walked along in silence, and Raymond improved the 
opportunity to study his companion. Mansur was prob- 
ably the tallest man at Kenton. He was thin almost to 
emaciation. His legs and arms were disproportionably 
long, and he walked with a careless, loose- jointed swing 
that gave an impression of awkwardness to his move- 
ments. His face was long, with sharp features, and 
would have been decidedly solemn — not to say lugubri- 
ous — in its expression, had it not been relieved by full 
grey eyes, that often carried the suggestion of a twinkle, 
and frequently lit up with a spirit of quaint humor. A 
heavy head of dark brown hair half hid a forehead of 
exceptional height and fulness. Perhaps the most 
noticeable thing about him, at first acquaintance, was his 
cool self-possession. Raymond was specially impressed 
by it, and made up his mind that this man, like ancient 
Ulysses, was “ full of resources.” He was also con- 
vinced that the occasions which would phase this minis- 
terial-looking student would be few and far between. 


A NEW ROOMMATE 


17 

“ How do you like Kenton ? ” asked the Senior, pres- 
ently coming out of his reverie, as from a dream, and 
looking his companion in the face with keen interest. 

Raymond hesitated. “ Well, er — really,” he stam- 
mered, “ I can’t tell — er — that is to say, I haven’t been 
here long enough yet to know.” 

“ Conditions are different here from what they were 
at Krampton, I take it ? ” continued Mansur. 

“ Ye-es,” admitted Raymond. 

“ You don’t find the same atmosphere of deference? ” 

Raymond laughed. 

“ Well, hardly, that is to say outside of the fellows 
who are soliciting me for the Greek letter societies.” 

“ So the fishers of men are after you?” returned 
Mansur quickly. “ Well, take my advice, Benson, and 
go slow. Visit all the societies who invite you, at least 
once, look them over carefully, and then join the one 
you think would be the most satisfactory to you with a 
view to your college course. It would also be well for 
you to see where the strong men of your class go. This 
will mean a great deal to you. A man is a dolt who 
attempts to limit his college friendships to his own fra- 
ternity. That is the essence of provincialism. The 
broader a man’s associations the broader the man, and 
the more genuine benefit he will derive from his course. 
Only a few of the benefits of a college training are 
derived from text-books, Benson. Most of them come 
from personal contact with fellow students and with 
members of the faculty. There is everything in the 


i8 


THE KENTON PINES 


stimulation of associations, and the essence of a liberal 
education will be found in its spirit rather than its 
form.” 

“ I suppose that is so,” said Raymond a little doubt- 
fully. 

Mansur indulged in a low laugh. 

“You’re a trifle skeptical now,” he said, “but you’ll 
come round to my point of view in time. Most of them 
do, except a few of the hidebounds. What I started 
out to say was that however many friendships you may 
form in the college at large — and I take it you are a 
fellow who will make your full share of them — still, 
what I may term the inner life of your college course 
must and will be lived in the close, almost confidential, 
relations of the dormitory and of the society delegation. 
It will be important, therefore, for you to determine at 
the start whether the men of your class, who are in any 
particular society delegation, are the ones you would 
wish to associate with, upon terms of closest intimacy, 
during the four years of your stay at Kenton.” 

Raymond was much impressed both by the sincerity 
and good sense of this advice. 

“ I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Mansur,” he 
said gratefully. “ It’s very kind of you to call my 
attention to these things, and I can appreciate the force 
of what you say. I — ” 

He paused suddenly, as a new thought flashed upon 
him, and looked the Senior in the eye. 

“ Aren’t you a secret society man ? ” he asked. 


A NEW ROOMMATE 


J 9 


“ Yes,” assented Mansur with a smile. “ I’m a 
member of the Beta Mu Kappa society. I suppose you 
were marveling at my disinterestedness,” he added. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Of course,” continued Mansur, “ I should be very 
glad to have you join my society. I think I shall not 
puff you up too much by telling you that your record at 
Krampton is well known here, and that any of the secret 
fraternities would regard you as a very desirable acqui- 
sition. So far as my own society is concerned, how- 
ever, I should not want you to come into it except upon 
your own deliberate judgment that it was the best thing 
to do." 

“ Isn’t it a good strong society ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ I think it is the strongest and the best,” replied 
Mansur quietly, “ and yet I should not want you to join 
it unless you could think so, too.” 

Then he unexpectedly changed the subject. 

“ I noticed that you got a little warm under the collar 
when that fellow tried to duck you,” he said. 

“ You saw that, did you? ” asked Raymond with ris- 
ing color. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you know the fellow’s name who did it? ” 

Mansur nodded. 

“ What is it ? ” continued Raymond eagerly. 

Mansur shook his head. 

“ I can’t tell you that, Benson,” he said with quiet 
decision, “ and, if you reflect a moment, you will not 


20 


THE KENTON PINES 


expect me to. College sentiment would scarcely uphold 
a man in telling tales on his fellows/’ 

Raymond’s face flushed crimson. 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Mansur,” he cried hastily. 
“ I didn’t think of that when I spoke. It was stupid in 
me. Of course you couldn’t do anything of the kind. 
There is no occasion anyway,” he added, his resentment 
rising again as the thought of the indignity to which he 
had been subjected recurred to him. “ I got a good 
square look at that lobster-faced guerrilla, and I’ll locate 
him easily enough. It won’t be my fault either if I 
don’t pay him back before I’m through with him.” 

“Don’t think of doing anything of the sort,” said 
Mansur earnestly, “ and above all things don’t indulge 
in threats.” 

“ Why not? ” asked Raymond impatiently. 

“ Because you’ll only make a mistake, and lose 
friends,” was the good-natured response. “ Better 
make up your mind to pass it along to some Freshman 
next year.” 

“ Do you think I’d be mean enough to — ” He 
paused in confusion, slightly disconcerted by the look of 
quiet and cynical amusement in his companion’s face. 

“ Use a Freshman that way? ” laughed Mansur, com- 
pleting his sentence. “No you wouldn’t — now. 
Next year it will be otherwise. You will view matters 
then from an entirely different standpoint.” 

Raymond did not reply immediately. He had a 
vague feeling that Mansur might, after all, be right. 


A NEW ROOMMATE 


21 


“ He was a Sophomore, anyway,” he said presently. 

“ You are mistaken,” replied Mansur. “ He is an 
upper-classman.” 

“ An upper-classman ! ” echoed Raymond incredu- 
lously. “ I thought they were above such dirty tricks.” 

“ They should be, but it is not always the case. 
There are various kinds of men in all classes.” 

“ Well, I don’t care what class he belongs to,” said 
Raymond, resentfully. “ I’ll have my innings with 
him some day. All I ask is for him to meet me man 
fashion.” 

Mansur listened with a kindly smile, and forebore to 
comment. “ A little revengeful just now,” he reflected, 
“ but, nevertheless, a thoroughbred.” 

For a short time neither of them spoke. 

“ I’ve a mind to tell you something,” said Mansur, 
presently breaking the silence; “ that is,” he added, “ if 
you wouldn’t suspect me of posing as a college Gama- 
liel.” 

“ I should be very thankful for any advice you may 
give me,” replied Raymond humbly. 

“ Good heavens ! ” laughed the tall Senior. “ Don’t, 
I pray you, suspect me of a sinister purpose to burden 
you with further advice. Nay, Nay, Pauline! This is 
purely a confidence.” 

“ ‘ A secret I will now tell to you-ou-ou 

Her name was not Marie but Marou-ou-ou/ ” 

He sang the bit of parody in a fine clear tenor voice, 


22 


THE KENTON PINES 


and then indulged in a hearty chuckle at his companion's 
evident bewilderment. 

“ Looks like a cold world, doesn’t it, Benson ? ” he 
asked, giving Raymond a quizzical glance out of the 
corner of his eyes. 

“ Well, I’ve lived in warmer ones before.” 

“That’s because you haven’t got the point of view.” 

“ The point of view ? ” repeated Raymond with ris- 
ing inflection. 

“ Yes, it makes all the difference in the world whether 
those above him regard a Freshman as an individual, or 
a mere unit in his class organization. If from the for- 
mer standpoint, he is weighed on his own personal mer- 
its; if the latter, he is merely a representative of monu- 
mental ignorance and vast primeval verdancy.” 

Light broke in upon Raymond. 

“ Oh, I see,” he said. 

“ Now the fellows who have invited you to join their 
fraternities are looking at you from the first point of 
view. They saw in you a good fellow whom they 
would be glad to welcome to their family group. The 
fellow who threw the water on you was looking at you 
from the other viewpoint. To him you were a repre- 
sentative of viridity and unconscious error, who was 
sadly in need of the bracing and broadening effects of a 
little discipline. 

“ Tis now the genial Prexy, 

Looks forth with troubled glance, 

And shouts, ‘ Get off the campus, Fresh, 

And give the grass a chance.’ ” 


A NEW ROOMMATE 


23 


Raymond smiled grimly. 

“You will scarcely expect me to appreciate the 
poetry,” he said. 

“ Well, no,” admitted Mansur. “ I simply threw 
that in to illustrate the second point of view a little more 
vividly. As an individual I will tell you, in strictest 
confidence, that you have the good fortune to enter col- 
lege with an exceptionally fine lot of fellows. This the 
Solomons of the older classes concede in private. Such 
a judgment, however, applies to them solely as individ- 
uals. As a class you have all the short-comings insepa- 
rably connected with the Freshman year.” 

“ Thanks,” said Raymond cordially. “ I begin to 
think that, after all, life may be worth living.” 

“ Most assuredly it is,” returned Mansur solemnly. 
“ Be of good cheer, my boy. ‘ Sorrow endureth for the 
night, but joy cometh in the morning.’ In other words 
you’ll be a Sophomore next year.” 

“ I’ll try to possess my soul in patience until that time 
arrives,” declared Raymond. 

“ That’s a good resolution, Benson,” said Mansur, 
dropping his light tone and speaking seriously. “ No 
Freshman can expect to escape all annoyances, but he 
should keep a cool head on his shoulders. To show 
temper is to invite new troubles ; to preserve one’s good- 
nature is to win peace and friends. He should remem- 
ber, too, that all his fellow students have travelled the 
same road, undergone the same experiences, and suf- 
fered the same tribulations.” Here a twinkle came into 


24 


THE KENTON PINES 


Mansur’s eye. “ Of course,” he continued, “ it’s a little 
rasping to one’s pride to have to pass from the mountain 
tops of preparatory school greatness through the abas- 
ing valley of Freshman humiliation. 


“ You were giants in the High school, 

Despite your tender age, 

Kind aunties wept to hear you spout 
In public on the stage.” 

“Was that original?” laughed Raymond. 

“ Yes,” replied Mansur, “ I contributed il to the 
Clarion. It has been my soothing custom since Sopho- 
more year to indite a few lines of welcome to each 
incoming Freshman class. Bless you, Benson, such lit- 
tle attentions steady them and do them lots of good. It 
was not, however, to tell you all this that I pursued you 
this morning. I — ” 

“ Pursued me ? ” interrupted Raymond. 

“ Yes, ” laughed the tall Senior. “ Did you think it 
was an accidental meeting ? ” 

“ Why, yes. I — ” 

“ It was nothing of the kind,” interposed Mansur. 
“ I laid for you, I deliberately, and, with malice afore- 
thought, followed you up to ask you one little question.” 

“ Why, what could that be ? ” asked Raymond won- 
deringly. 

“ Whether or not you would like to room with me? ” 

Raymond looked dazed at this announcement. 

“ To room with you? ” he repeated, incredulously. 


A NEW ROOMMATE 


2 5 


“ Certainly,” smiled Mansur. “ Does that surprise 
you? Well, the fact is my roommate graduated last 
June, and I can’t afford to live alone, so I must needs 
persuade some Freshman to share my modest apart- 
ments. I haven’t seen anyone in your class I would 
rather have than you. This ought to be sufficient proof 
of my point of view. What do you say ? ” He held 
out his hand and Raymond shook it with impulsive 
warmth. 

“ I should be glad to room with you,” he said. “ It 
is very kind of you to ask me.” 

“ You will have one of the best rooms in the college 
with me,” continued Mansur. “ It’s a society hand- 
down. Next year you can hold it in your own name, 
and get some congenial Freshman to share it with you 
— as I am doing now.” 

“ How about furnishings ? ” inquired Raymond. 

“ Oh, my last year’s roommate left his things with 
me. You can buy them on very reasonable terms. In 
fact before he passed away he constituted me sole execu- 
tor of the estate he left behind him.” 

“ I should be glad to pay whatever is right for them,” 
said Raymond. “ When would you want me to 
come ? ” 

“ The sooner the better. You will be out of Alge- 
bra at half-past two. There will be nothing further in 
the way of studies until you go into Mathematics at nine 
o’clock to-morrow forenoon. What’s the reason you 
can’t pack up and come in this afternoon ? ” 


20 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Why, I guess there isn’t any. I’ll try to be around 
before supper.” 

“ All right ! So long,” and Mansur swung away in 
the direction of the post-office, while Raymond crossed 
the street to the hotel. 

The college atmosphere was becoming more bracing, 
and he began to feel that it was possible, after all, that 
he might find pleasure as well as profit in old Kenton, 
and its classic associations. 


CHAPTER III 


THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 

It was the afternoon of the great football game 
between the two lower classes at Kenton College. 

Dressed in his old Krampton baseball suit, with its 
armless jersey, Raymond Benson stood in his room with 
one foot in a chair lacing up the last clamped shoe pre- 
paratory to joining his classmates on the field of battle. 

Charlie Mansur, sprawled out in a big easy chair, on 
the opposite side of the room, pretended to be absorbed 
in a book he was reading, but the furtive glances he stole 
at his young roommate indicated that he was by no 
means as indifferent to the spirit of the occasion as he 
would have it appear. 

Presently he laid aside his book and gazed admiringly 
at Raymond's sun-browned and muscular arms. 

“ You strip like an athlete," he commented. “ Where 
— oh where, did you find those biceps ? ” 

“ They grew on the old farm," was the laughing 
rejoinder. “ They are purely an agricultural product." 

“ Well, they speak favorably for the soil up your 
way," said Mansur. “ I wish you all success, old 
man," he continued cordially. “ I honestly hope you’ll 
tan ’em out." 


2 7 


28 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Thank you,” said Raymond. “ We shall do our 
best ; but how happens it that you are with us to-day. I 
thought Senior sympathies were only for Sophomores.” 

“Tradition, my boy! mere tradition! ” yawned Man- 
sur. “ In fact the average Sophomore, puffed up with 
his own conceits, is vastly more of a bore and an abomi- 
nation to sensible men — such, for instance, as you’ll 
find in the Senior class — than the Freshman who is 
conscious of his own limitations, and is governed 
thereby. I honestly believe a good sound walloping 
would do those bumptious young Sophomores good, 
I do, ’pon my word; and I should take supreme satis- 
faction in seeing you give it to them.” 

“ It won’t be an easy task if they put up any such a 
scrap to-day as they did yesterday morning over that 
football Milton Floyd threw among them when they 
came out of the Chapel.” 

“ They can’t do it,” said Mansur with conviction. 
“ They wasted a good deal of valuable energy in that 
senseless scuffle. The Freshmen had a great advantage 
there in being able to do the heavy looking on.” 

“ Well, I hope it will turn out that way,” said Ray- 
mond as he left the room. 

Arriving on the field where the contest was to be held, 
he found most of his class already assembled there, clad 
in a variety of costumes that were intended to be of an 
athletic character. The Sophomores had not yet put in 
an appearance. 

This annual event between the two lower classes while 


THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 29 

it was known at Kenton as a “ game ” was in fact a 
mere series of mob rushes, in which all the members of 
both classes participated. The object of each was to 
kick a football, which was started in the center of the 
field, over the goal line of the opposing class. 

The Freshmen were handicapped by a Sophomore 
goal line consisting of the fence at the south end of the 
campus, which was guarded by a thick growth of trees 
and shrubbery. The Freshman goal line was an unob- 
structed pathway running across the opposite end of that 
portion of the big campus which was specially dedicated, 
in an athletic way, to this annual event. 

Captain Lennox’s face lighted up with pleasure when 
he caught sight of Raymond. 

“ Look at Benson,” he called to Phil Graham who 
stood near him ; “ I tell you that boy is built for an ath- 
lete. Just see those arm and shoulder muscles.” 

“ He’s all right,” conceded Phil. “ Looks, too, as if 
he might be quick on his feet.” 

“ Just what I was thinking,” responded Lennox, and 
going up to Raymond he took him by the arm and led 
him to one side. 

“ I wish I had your arm muscles, old man,” he said 
admiringly. 

“ I was just thinking that I should like to have your 
shoulders and legs,” returned Raymond. 

“ Well, this is really quite a mutual admiration soci- 
ety,” laughed Lennox, “ but, that isn’t what I specially 
wanted to say to you,” he added. “ Some of the fel- 


30 


THE KENTON PINES 


lows have sized you up to be considerable of a sprinter, 
and I am satisfied that they’re not far out of the way. 
Now what I would like you to do is to keep out of the 
melees. Let some of us heavy fellows, who can’t run a 
little bit, get into the pile-ups. You keep on the outside 
ready to give the ball a quick start when it comes 
through. I have instructed one or two other fellows 
to play the same game ; but I’m satisfied you are the best 
man in the bunch.” 

“I’ll do the best I can,” said Raymond modestly. 

“ I know you will,” responded the captain heartily. 
“ Ah, the dogs of war are loose,” he cried, as a din of 
horns, bells, and drums sounded over the campus. 

In a moment the Sophomores came into view around 
the corner of the Chapel. At this point the instrumen- 
tal part of their programme was dispensed with, and 
with linked arms and swaying step they came slowly 
forward, four abreast, singing in chorus “ Chi Phi,” the 
famous old hazing song. Their costumes were of a 
variegated and fantastic character, evidently designed to 
strike terror to Freshman hearts; though as a matter of 
fact, they merely excited their amusement. 

“ Looks like at Fourth o’ July Calathumpian parade,” 
was Captain Lennox’s comment. 

“ We ought to be able to do that bunch,” asserted big 
Victor Evans, coolly. 

The two classes were presently facing each other 
with determined grimness. It was evident that the 
contest would be “ for blood.” 



The Sophomores came into view around the corner of 

the Chapel. — Page 30. 



. 

• • 8-1 Ml I 



















* 









* 






















THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 3 1 

Captain Lennox won the kick-off. A moment later 
the ball went sailing over the heads of the Sophomore 
rushers. It was stopped and returned by one of the 
backs, and the battle was on. 

Back and forth across the field the ball was forced in 
a series of desperate rushes. Comparatively few mem- 
bers of either class were accustomed to such violent 
physical exercise, and it was a perspiring, dust-grimed 
mob that panted up and down the field, now piling upon 
the ball in a wild tangle of frantic arms and legs, and 
now chasing madly after it as it was forced in one direc- 
tion or the other. The upper-classmen equipped with tin 
horns and megaphones, were lined up along the rear of 
the Freshman goal line and endeavored to prolong the 
contest by cheering first one side and then the other, as 
the exigency of the situation appeared to demand. At 
one time it looked as if the Sophomores had won the 
day. A long punt had driven the ball over the heads of 
the Freshman rush line. The Sophomores had broken 
through in following it, and were racing down the field 
yelling like demons. Only Wendall Nye, a frail, schol- 
arly boy, and the lightest man in the Freshman class, 
stood between them and the goal. 

The Sophomores in their desperation attempted to 
disconcert him. 

“ Let it alone ! ” “ Don’t you dare touch it ! ” 

“ Stand back ! ” “ We’ll smash you ! ” they shouted at 

him fiercely ; but Nye was not to be intimidated. By a 
quick sprint he reached the ball ahead of the Sopho- 


32 


THE KENTON PINES 


mores, and with a well-directed kick sent it back over 
their heads to his classmates in the rear, who speedily 
hustled it beyond the danger point. 

For nearly an hour and a half the battle continued. 
Raymond, mindful of the instructions of Captain Len- 
nox, had refrained from mixing in, what Dick Harter, 
who came from the wild, woolly West, called the 
“ round-ups.” Once, indeed, he forgot himself and 
joined in the general mix-up, but a blow from the fist of 
a big Sophomore caught him in the jaw and sent him 
sprawling upon the ground outside the circle. 

“ They’re playing a slugging game,” he said to 
Charlie Longley, as he picked himself up. 

“ They’re playing anything to win,” was the 
response, “ but they can’t do it, Benson. This is our 
game sure as preaching. We’ve got them pretty well 
winded.” 

A moment later the ball bounded out from the huge 
melee of struggling students, and, almost before anyone 
was aware of it, Raymond had started it towards the 
Sophomore goal with a clear field in front of him. The 
Sophomores tried desperately to head him off; but in 
vain. With a series of clean, hard punts he drove the 
ball down the field through the maple hedge, and over 
the fence, which formed the goal line, into the road 
beyond. 

The great game was won. The Sophomores retired 
from the field sullen and crestfallen. They had put up 
a desperate fight and lost. The Freshmen had fairly 


THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 33 

overcome them, and it was not surprising that they felt 
sorely the humiliation of their defeat. They were con- 
scious, too, that this event would serve the upper-class- 
men as perpetual nagging material, and would make it 
much more difficult for them to maintain their pretense 
of superiority. 

Raymond was the hero of the hour. In vain he pro- 
tested to his classmates that it was all a mere matter of 
good luck that had come his way, and that lots of them 
were deserving of vastly more credit for the day’s vic- 
tory than he. 

They positively refused to listen to him, and raising 
him upon their shoulders in a tumult of cheers, bore him 
in triumph to his dormitory. 

The next morning the rope-pull occurred in front of 
the Chapel. It was, however, little more than a farce — 
a number of the upper-classmen getting on the Sopho- 
more end of the long cable, and giving them an easy vic- 
tory. It was evident that the older students were deter- 
mined that the Freshmen should be saved from any 
attack of “ big head ” that might come from an uninter- 
rupted career of triumph. 

The baseball game in the afternoon was conducted 
under conditions of fairness ; but it was speedily evident 
that the Sophomores, who had taken very little part in 
this branch of college athletics, and who had but one 
man — the first baseman — on the ’Varsity team, were 
hopelessly outclassed. They could do very little with 
Raymond’s delivery, notwithstanding the fact that he 


34 


THE KENTON PINES 


was obliged to favor his catcher when he was under the 
bat. Claude Redford was a natural ball-player, but his 
position had always been in the out-field where he played 
brilliantly. He stood up pluckily to his work behind 
the bat, but it was evident that he had had but little prac- 
tice in the position. 

Captain Longley laughingly declared that the Sopho- 
more pitcher was “ a clear case of draft,” and certainly 
the freedom with which his delivery was batted, gave 
color to the assertion. 

The game was finally worried to a close with a score 
of 20 to 6 in favor of the Freshmen. So little did Ray- 
mond have to exert himself, that a number of the stu- 
dents who watched his work, for the purpose of “ get- 
ting a line ” on his pitching abilities, were undecided 
whether he would at the start be fast enough for the 
’Varsity or not. All agreed that he had an easy, grace- 
ful movement and gave promise of future effectiveness. 

As he came out of Chapel the following Monday 
morning, Raymond paused to read upon the bulletin- 
board a notice calling upon all candidates for the base- 
ball team to report, Tuesday afternoon, to Captain 
Moody at the players’ cage in the basement of the gym- 
nasium. 

He felt a hand upon his shoulder, and, turning, found 
Charlie Longley standing beside him. 

“ You’ll be there, of course,” said the Freshman cap- 
tain cordially. 

“ Yes, I guess so,” returned Raymond, “ but I don’t 


THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 35 

know what it will amount to. I understand the team 
has two pitchers already, and probably either one of 
them is better than I am.” 

“ I don’t think so,” protested Charlie. “ Besides 
both of them are in the Senior class. The college will 
have to begin to work up new pitching material for next 
year. You are the coming man, and should improve all 
your opportunities for practice.” 

“ I’ll at least do enough to keep my digestion good,” 
laughed Raymond as he walked away to his room. 

Late that afternoon, as he sat at his desk working out 
the Geometry lesson for the next morning, there was a 
rap at his door. 

“ Come,” he shouted. 

“ Are you alone, Benson ? ” asked Lon Thurber, 
opening the door just far enough to admit his head. 

“ Yes. Come in.” 

Thurber entered and took a seat beside the desk. He 
appeared somewhat disturbed in mind and decidedly ill 
at east. “ I came — that is — I thought — hang it all, 
Benson, I want your advice,” he concluded desperately. 

Raymond looked at him in some surprise. 

“ Why certainly, old man,” he said. “ Such as it is 
you’re welcome to it.” 

Lon twisted uneasily in his chair. 

. “ Did you see that notice to candidates for the Glee 
Club on the bulletin-board, this morning ? ” he asked, 
abruptly. 

“ Seems to me I did,” replied Raymond doubtfully, 


3 ^ 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ but I was so busy reading that notice to the baseball 
men, that I didn’t pay much attention to it. What did it 
say?” 

“ It asked members of the Freshman class who were 
candidates for the college Glee Club to report at Num- 
ber 7, Shapleigh Hall, at 4 o’clock this afternoon.” 

“ And you went ? ” 

“ Yes. I sing some you know and I thought it would 
be a valuable training for me, if I could catch on.” 

“ I have no doubt it would,” assented Raymond. 
“ Who were there ? ” 

“ Oh, about a dozen fellows of our class and three 
Seniors who seemed to be running the thing.” 

“ Who were they?” 

“ Why, Charlie Mansur, who appeared to be in gen- 
eral charge, — he’s first tenor in the Glee Club you know 
— and Pen Wheatley, and what was that other one’s 
name ? ” he continued reflectively. “ Why, you know 
who I mean — that solemn-looking fellow with the side- 
whiskers.” 

“ Maurice Ransom ? ” 

“ That’s the man.” 

“ What did they do ? ” 

“ Oh, they had us stand up one by one and sing sev- 
eral selections. Then they asked Adolph Schreiner to 
sing ‘ The Shades of Night Were Falling Fast ’ with 
yodel.” 

“ Could he warble ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ I thought it was very wobbly, myself,” was the dry 


THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 3 ? 

response. “ In fact some of us couldn’t keep from 
snickering; but the committee never turned a hair. It 
was certainly very kind of them.” 

“ What followed ? ” 

“ A written examination. Here it is,” and Lon took 
from his pocket a typewritten sheet. “ Do you know, 
Benson,” he continued, handing it to Raymond, “ I’m 
mighty suspicious that they were stringing us all the 
time — not but that they appeared all right, but — well 
some of these questions don’t just seem to wash.” 

Raymond picked up the paper and read: 

KENTON GLEE CLUB 

PRELIMINARY TEST OF FRESHMEN CANDIDATES 

1. Define harmony. 

2. State the distinction between the four qualities of 
male voices. 

3. Define a trill, a quaver, a semi-quaver, a quarter- 
rest and a half note. 

4. State the distinction between a yodel and a 
warble. 

5. Briefly sketch the musical characteristics of Wag- 
ner, Mozart, and Edgar Allan Poe. 

6. Assume that a piece is written in the Key of G; 
assume further that the tenors start on F minor, the 
baritones on A flat, and the bassos on F sharp, what 
course would you advise. 

7. Define a glyconic asclepiadean stanza and an 
indented hexameter, and give an illustration of each. 


38 


THE KENTON PINES 


Raymond struggled desperately to restrain a smile. 
He returned the paper to Lon and inquired if it com- 
pleted the programme. 

“ All except the measurements for dress suits,” was 
the reply. 

“ Who did that ? ” inquired Raymond with twinkling 
eyes. 

“ Mansur. I didn’t come in on it though, as I 
already have one. Now I want to know, honest Injun, 
just what you think of it.” 

Raymond, despite his desire not to offend his sensitive 
classmate, could not restrain a broad, and almost audible 
smile. 

Thurber looked at him with flaming face, a picture of 
misery and mortification. 

“ You needn’t bother to say it,” cried the unhappy 
boy. “ They were playing horse — no, ass, with us — 
and lurid ass at that. We ought to be given a life sen* 
tence to some institution for the feeble-minded.” 

“ Oh, not so bad as that, old man,” protested Ray- 
mond. “ It was a very clever hoax. Almost anyone 
might have been taken in by it.” 

Lon had risen from his seat and was pacing back and 
forth with nervous stride. 

“ I suppose the whole college will be laughing about 
it to-morrow,” he ejaculated, bitterly, “ and we shall 
figure in the general estimation as an overripe bunch of 
lunkheads. It will serve us just right though. We 
were all old enough to know better,” and without fur- 


THE SOPHOMORE-FRESHMAN FOOTBALL GAME 39 

ther comment, he flung himself out of the room in a 
tempest of rage and chagrin. 

A moment later the door opened to admit Charlie 
Mansur. 

“ What are you working at now, old man? ” he asked 
cheerily, as he threw his coat and hat upon the couch, 
and seated himself in the big easy chair. 

Raymond looked at him with dancing eyes. 

“I was trying to find the correct definition of a gly- 
conic asclepiadean stanza.” 

Mansur gave a whistle of astonishment. 

“You’ve heard of that, have you?” he demanded, 
and throwing back his head he gave vent to his merri- 
ment in roars of laughter. 

“ Oh, my soul ! ” he gasped, with the tears rolling 
down his cheeks. “ It was rich, though. If one of our 
fellows had as much as looked crosswise at me, I 
should have let loose right there. I haven’t had so 
much fun for an age. You should have heard Schreiner 
give that yodel” and throwing back his head Mansur 
sang in his clear tenor : 

“ The shades of night were falling fast 
La-lee-hoo ! ha-lee-hoo ! 

When through an Alpine village passed 
La-lee-hoo-li-lay ! ” 

“ Innocence was certainly abroad that time,” he con- 
tinued. “ You should have seen them perform, Ben- 
son — and those examination papers — to say nothing 


40 


THE KENTON PINES 


of the questions that came from those poor lambs ! Ah, 
what a consuming thing, my boy, is an unquenchable, 
insatiable thirst for melody ! ” And again the tall 
Senior exploded in a tumult of mirth. 

“ Wake me early, to-morrow, Benson,” he cried 
between the paroxysms. “ I must take all my trousers 
down-town, and have them let out, I’ve gained ten 
pounds this afternoon.” 


CHAPTER IV 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 

The candidates for the Kenton baseball team were 
gathered about the “ cage ” in the basement of the 
college gymnasium. There were only about a dozen 
of them in all, two-thirds of whom were from the 
Freshman class. Aside from Captain Moody, old 
members of the team, with the indifference born of 
experience, had failed to put in an appearance. 

Captain Moody, who was also the catcher of the 
team, was of powerful build, and somewhat given to 
corpulency. For a man who weighed over two hun- 
dred pounds, however, he had the reputation of being 
remarkably quick. He was red-faced, and aggressive, 
and even his voice, which was one of exceptional 
volume, was always pitched on one of the higher 
keys, as if he feared that a failure to make himself 
heard might result in a loss of prestige. 

When he had satisfied himself that practically all 
the new men who would go into winter training with 
the team were assembled, he cleared his throat, depos- 
ited a large quid of tobacco in a neighboring spittoon, 
and proceeded to state the purposes of the meeting. 

“ I didn’t plan to have any practice here, to-day,” 
4i 


42 


THE KENTON PINES 


he said. “ I just wanted to meet the candidates and 
map out the work a little. We can’t expect to do very 
much until the football season is over, for a good many 
of our fellows will be playing on the first or second 
elevens, and will be getting about as good training in 
a way as if they were with us. Those of you who wish 
to play football will be excused from baseball practice 
during the present term. I shall be here myself from 
four till five the first five days of the week ; and Satur- 
day afternoons, from two till four, and shall expect to 
meet the rest of you here regularly. Wentworth field 
will not be available for us this term, but, when the 
weather is favorable we will try to get in some out- 
of-door practice on the south end of the campus. 
Otherwise we will train here. In the make-up of next 
season’s team I shall work no favorites. Every fellow 
who shows ability to play ball will have a fair chance 
and a square deal. I should like to have Benson and 
Longley remain a short time. The rest of you are 
excused till to-morrow afternoon. By that time I shall 
expect all of you to have lockers, and suits adapted to 
our work here.” 

When the other candidates had gone, Captain Moody 
turned to Raymond and Longley. 

“ I asked you two to stay,” he said, “ because I 
wanted to say to Longley that his chances of making 
second base are far better than usually fall to a Fresh- 
man. The man who played the bag last season grad- 
uated in June. You’d better plan your practice, Long- 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 43 


ley, with this fact in mind. Now, Benson, I should 
be glad if you’d take off your coat and pitch awhile to 
me. I hear you’ve had some experience in the box.” 

Raymond took a position in the end of the cage with 
the ball Captain Moody tossed him, and the big catcher 
donned a heavy mitt and faced him. 

“ Let ’em fly,” he called. 

A slow drop came crawling across the plate and sank 
into the mitt a few inches from the floor. 

“ That’s a good one, Benson, if you don’t throw it 
too often,” was the captain’s comment. “ Speed ’em 
up a little.” 

Raymond straightened back a moment and then with 
a full arm and body swing sent a high in-shoot towards 
the big catcher. It glanced from his mitt and brought 
up with a resounding thud on the brick work in the 
rear of the cage. 

Captain Moody looked dazed. 

“ What’s that ? ” he demanded. 

“ What I call an in-rise,” replied Raymond. 

“ Do you use it much ? ” 

“ I have found it the most effective ball I can pitch.” 

“ It’s a mighty hard ball to control,” asserted Captain 
Moody, emphatically. “ Besides a pitcher is always 
liable to hit a batsman with it, or let it go wild* 
Nothing takes the starch out of a team like that. It’s 
also a mighty hard ball to catch, and always leaves a 
back-stop at a disadvantage in attempting to throw. 
Let’s see your plain out.” 


44 


THE KENTON PINES 


Raymond responded with the desired curve. 

“ Now, throw another and break the curve over the 
plate. ,, 

Again the ball went wide. 

“ Can’t you control it ? ” asked the captain. 

“ Not as well as I can some of my other curves.” 

“ Well, I advise you then to put special practice on 
it this winter. It’s a very important curve to use when 
a man is perfect master of it, especially when there are 
men on bases. It always leaves a catcher in good 
position for his throw. What else have you got ? ” 

Raymond’s reply was an underhand rise that came 
over the plate and cleared Moody’s mitt by more than 
an inch. 

The captain was evidently disconcerted. 

“ I wasn’t looking for that,” he grunted. “ Do you 
use it often ? ” 

“ I can control it best of anything I throw.” 

“ Humph ! that’s funny. I never saw a pitcher yet 
who could control it at all. One thing is certain, when 
a batsman hits one of them he is reasonably sure to 
drive it a mile. The longest hits I’ve ever seen were 
made off that kind of pitching.” 

“ They are liable to go a good ways when they are 
hit fair,” admitted Raymond, “ but I’ve found it a very 
deceptive ball to mix in occasionally, especially where 
a batsman could be caught a little out of form, or 
where he wasn’t expecting it.” 

“ That may be, but all the same I don’t much believe 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 45 


in it,” sniffed the captain. “ Let’s try your plain in. 
Very good. Now an in-drop. Now a swift straight 
across the plate. All right. Now give me a plain drop 
over the plate. Once more. Try again, and start a 
little further. Very good. That will do for to-day.” 

“ I see plainly that I shall need all the practice I can 
get,” said Raymond modestly. 

“ Yes,” agreed the captain briefly. “ You are a 
promising man in some ways, Benson,” he added 
slowly, “ but you have got a good deal to learn yet.” 

“ I’m very well aware of that,” assented Raymond. 

“ I’ve seen a good many fitting school phenoms 
explode when they reached college,” continued Moody. 
“ It’s a vastly different thing I can tell you to go up 
against college batsmen than it is to hold down a crowd 
of academy boys.” 

Raymond nodded his head. His face flushed, how- 
ever, at the implied disparagement of the remark. 

“ One thing is sure, Benson,” continued the big 
captain. “ You will have to drop that high in and 
underhand rise, and acquire better control of your plain 
drops and out-shoots, if you expect to do good work 
against college batsmen.” 

Raymond made no reply, and, a moment later, he 
and Charlie Longley were on their way back to their 
dormitory. 

“ He’s an encouraging sort of a fellow,” was the 
former’s sarcastic comment when they were out of the 
captain’s hearing. The conference with Moody had 


46 


THE KENTON PINES 


left him feeling exceedingly hot and uncomfortable. 

“ Do you know what I think, Rame? ” asked Char- 
lie, adopting the nickname that had been given Ray- 
mond by a few of his more intimate classmates. “ That 
fellow is afraid to catch you.” 

“ I don’t think that’s altogether so,” returned Ray- 
mond. “ He seems to have taken a grudge against 
me from the start. He tried to. duck me the first day 
of the term, and partially succeeded.” 

“ I didn’t know that,” said Longley. 

“ Well, I didn’t take any pains to advertise it. I 
was in his society club and took supper, last night. 
I recognized him the minute I got my eyes on him. 
He tried to be affable enough; but he must have seen 
that I didn’t love him. I never had the faculty of 
covering up my feelings as some men can. I made up 
my mind right then and there that I would not, under 
any circumstances, join his society. I am pretty sure 
he was bright enough to perceive the true situation, 
and was piqued by it. Another thing I noticed, too. 
Both of the old pitchers are not only his classmates, 
but they belong to his secret fraternity as well. So, 
you see, he will have a double motive in keeping me 
in the background.” 

“ There may be some force in what you say,” 
rejoined Longley, “ but I still think he is nervous about 
handling you. I could see him cringe when he went 
up against your speed, and I’m satisfied that he’ll never 
catch your swift, high balls, if he can help it.” 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 47 

“ And I’m satisfied that I can never do effective 
pitching without them,” said Raymond doggedly. 

“ I certainly think you could never pitch up to your 
mark without them,” acquiesced Longley, “ although 
you ought to be in it with the old-fashioned delivery 
of Lincoln and Keaton. I’ve seen them both work. 
Neither of them will be in your class, if you get that 
* square deal ’ Captain Moody promised us.” 

“ I’ve no doubt he was sincere enough in making 
that promise,” said Raymond, “ but he isn’t built right 
to carry it out. His bigness is all avoirdupois.” 

“ I wouldn’t get hot and do anything rash,” said 
Longley earnestly. “ If you go along quietly and keep 
in practice your time is sure to come. I shall be with 
you, old boy, under any circumstances. If Moody 
won’t catch your high balls, I or Claude Redford will 
go over to the gym and practice with you any morn- 
ing. We could go early and have everything to our- 
selves.” 

“ Thank you,” said Raymond earnestly, as they 
parted at the door of his room. “ I appreciate your 
kindness, Charlie. Perhaps I shall want to call on you.” 

“ Well, how did you make it?” asked Mansur, as 
Raymond hung up his hat and coat. 

“ Oh, very well.” 

“ What did Moody have to say to you? ” 

Thus encouraged, Raymond gave a detailed account 
of his first meeting with the ’ Varsity captain. His 
roommate listened with evident interest. 


48 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Moody isn’t the greatest man in college — no, not 
by a long chalk,” was his comment. “He is high- 
tempered, and bull-headed; but, for all that, he has 
his good points. Don’t cross him if you can help it, 
though,” he added kindly. “ At the same time don’t 
give up your individuality in your pitching. If he 
objects to any part of your delivery, don’t irritate him 
by using it in his presence. Go in at some other time 
and practice it with your class catcher.” 

“ Thank you,” said Raymond gratefully. “ I’ve 
already been given similar advice, and I think I shall 
follow it.” 

“ And now,” resumed Mansur, “ to change the sub- 
ject for a pleasanter one, what have you decided about 
society? You’ve seen them about all, haven’t you?” 

Raymond smiled. 

“ I’ve practically lived on one or the other of them 
ever since I moved in here. I think I’ve gone the 
rounds.” 

“ You remember what I said about class delegation,” 
continued Mansur. “ Well, here’s a list of men in your 
class who are pledged to Beta Mu Kappa.” 

He handed Raymond a slip of paper. “ See what 
you think of them ? ” he said. 

Raymond ran his eye down the list. “ Allston, 
Evans, Longley, Nye, Harter, Rayner, Day, Redford, 
Thurber.” 

“ It's all right,” he said, handing the sheet back to 
Mansur. 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 49 


“ How would you like to live your college life in that 
family group ? ” 

“ First-rate.” 

Mansur held out his hand and clasped his room- 
mate’s in a hearty grip. 

“ I think you have rather planned on this from the 
first,” observed Raymond jocosely. “ I am beginning 
to admire your strategy.” 

A droll humor came into Mansur’s eyes. 

“ You are a very discerning youth,” he said, with 
cheerful amiability, “ and I am frank to say that I take 
great pleasure in adding your name to our family 
records. I know you will never regret it. You have 
pledged to the best society in Kenton. You must make 
our club your home, hereafter,” and, taking a society 
button from his vest pocket, he carefully fixed it in 
the buttonhole on the lapel of Raymond’s coat. 

“ You are a man of mark now,” he said, viewing 
the decoration with evident satisfaction. 

“ I became that earlier in the day,” laughed Ray- 
mond. “ I didn’t tell you, did I, that I was elected 
class juryman at a meeting held after our Mathematical 
recitation, this morning ? ” 

Mansur snatched from his mouth the pipe he was 
smoking, and thrust it behind him in mock alarm. 

“ Spare me ! ” he cried, in tragic tones. 

“ Be serious for once,” laughed Raymond, “ and 
give me some advice. What am I expected to do, 
anyway ? ” 


50 


THE KENTON PINES 


“Do?” echoed Mansur, solemnly. “You are to 
see that the rest of us walk in the straight and narrow 
way that leadeth not to destruction. A Kenton jury- 
man, my boy, combines, in his august personality, the 
functions of a detective, a judge, a jury, and a church 
beadle. He stands for authority, for social order, 
and for decorum. He is in fact the monarch of this 
little republic in which for a time we live, and move, 
and have our being — in short the juryman is the gen- 
uine college Jumbo.” 

“ Do they very often have cases ? ” asked Raymond 
anxiously. 

“ I don’t know,” laughed Mansur. “ I never was 
before them but once, and then I succeeded in proving 
an alibi.” 

“ I’d like to know just what’s expected of me,” 
insisted Raymond. 

“ You’ll find that out soon enough, if it’s necessary,” 
said Mansur. “ Prex, who officiates they say as the 
prosecuting attorney, will be glad to enlighten you. 
Meanwhile take my advice and don’t trouble trouble 
till trouble troubles you.” 

“ Thanks,” said Raymond, dryly. “ I think I’ll be 
governed by your excellent suggestion.” 

“ Did you elect any other class officers ? ” asked 
Mansur. 

“ Yes, the full list.” 

“ Of course the polished and elegant Kirk Farns- 
worth is president ? ” 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 5 1 

“ On the contrary that honor fell to Jack Carroll.” 

“ Indeed! ” exclaimed Mansur, arching his eyebrows, 
“ and what did our accomplished friend get ? ” 

“ Left.” 

“ But this is rank treason.” 

“We are a band of Nihilists, you know,” laughed 
Raymond. “ We simply couldn’t stand an hereditary 
monarch. I forgot to say though that we did give 
Brother Farnsworth a nickname.” 

“A nickname! Ye Gods of War, how has the 
mighty fallen ! ” 

“ Yes, he is now known as * Pud.’ ” 

Mansur leaned back in his chair, and indulged in a 
pleased chuckle. 

“ Has it, indeed, come to this ? ” he gasped. “ And 
what may ‘ Pud ’ mean ? ” 

“ Oh, simply an abbreviation for pudding. He was 
so easy, you know.” 

“ Would you believe it?” announced Mansur, “I’m 
beginning to like this class of yours. I predicted that 
young man’s downfall when I heard how he maneu- 
vered at your first meeting, but I confess I scarcely 
expected that his coat-tails would grace the chutes so 
soon.” 

“ Neither did I.” 

“ And now,” continued Mansur, “ let’s speak of 
more cheerful things. I had a matter I was going 
to propose to you, but the discovery of a juryman 
beneath my own vine and fig tree quite disconcerted 


52 


THE KENTON PINES 


me. I want you to make a call with me next Saturday 
evening.” 

“ Where?” 

“ On some lady friends of mine.” 

Raymond blushed. 

“ Don’t count on me there, Mansur,” he said hastily. 
“ You know I make no pretensions to being a ladies’ 
man.” 

“ It’s time you began, then,” said Mansur, with cool 
serenity. “ I will be present, you know, to guard you 
from all danger. Besides I specially promised a young 
lady friend of mine, and a very fine girl she is, too, 
Benson, that I would bring you in, Saturday evening, 
and present you. A fair cousin of hers is visiting her, 
and she is planning to have a quiet game of whist. 
You play, don’t you? ” 

“ Very indifferently.” 

“ Well, none of us are liable to be experts. Really, 
Benson, I can’t let you disappoint me. The girls in 
town are anxious to meet the new Freshman lion. I 
have stood between you and more than one fair con- 
spiracy during the past week. Indeed, I have attributed 
my own apparently growing popularity with the local 
fair sex very largely to the fact that you were rooming 
with me. Now I have positively agreed to exhibit you 
at an appointed time and place. If you go back on me, 
my name is thenceforth Dennis. I’m in your hands, 
you see.” 

Raymond rose and walked up and down the floor 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 53 


with a troubled look. “ You’re joking,” he said finally. 

“ I’m certainly not,” returned Mansur. “ I was 
never more serious in my life.” 

“ I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful,” said 
Raymond, “ or that I do not appreciate the advantage 
of making pleasant acquaintances here outside of col- 
lege ; but — really — social functions are out of my 
line. This eternal Freshman grind will take all my 
time for the present anyway.” 

“ Still, I may count on you for Saturday night ? ” 

“ Oh, I shall not go back on you this time,” said 
Raymond, with a sigh of resignation, “ but please don’t 
do it again.” 

“ I won’t have to,” replied Mansur. “ You’ll go 
on your own account. Thanks ! I knew you wouldn’t 
go back on me,” he added with evident satisfaction. 

“ By the way,” asked Raymond with sudden interest, 
“ who is the young lady ? ” 

Mansur laughed. 

“ Let me congratulate you, my boy, on the awaken- 
ing of human interest. It’s a hopeful sign. Her name 
is Miss Janet Amsden.” 

“ Not General Amsden’s daughter? ” cried Raymond, 
in a tone of dismay. 

“ The very same,” responded Mansur cheerfully. 
“ Have you seen her ? ” 

“ No. I heard her father make a campaign speech 
once at Bolton when I was a boy. He was a very 
eloquent speaker.” 


54 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ That’s very true, and let me assure you that his 
daughter inherits his good qualities, along with others 
she got from a good mother to whom I owe very, very 
much myself, Benson.” 

Raymond looked quickly at his roommate. The 
bantering tone was gone and the tall Senior was speak- 
ing with visible emotion. 

“ Mrs. Amsden was my mother’s sister,” he said 
softly. “ They were twins, and so closely resembled 
one another, when they were girls together, that 
strangers always had difficulty in telling them apart. 
My own dear mother died when I was only seven 
years old. When I am with Aunt Annie my mother’s 
face is with me again. I can look back through the 
mists of years and see her once more as she bent over 
me to hear my evening prayers and kiss me good- 
night.” Mansur’s voice broke. The tears stood in 
his eyes. For a moment he was silent, his elbow upon 
his knees, and his chin resting in his hands. Then, 
controlling himself with an effort, he said : “ It’s an 

awful thing for anyone — most of all a little boy — to 
lose a good mother. You have never known what it 
is to be a heart-hungry little child; to buffet your way 
in the world, with none to appreciate or sympathize 
with the joys and sorrows that seem so large and real 
to little ones — so small and trivial to grown up 
people. There are some things that only a good 
mother can feel and understand. My father is a kind 
man and over-indulgent with me; but he has been all 


BASEBALL CANDIDATES MEET CAPTAIN MOODY 55 

my life absorbed in business affairs. I should have 
been a better man, I think, if my mother had lived. 
Aunt Annie has done her best to fill her place. My 
boyish visits to her here were the bright spots in my 
childhood. Since I have been in college she has had 
better opportunities to exercise her motherly interest 
in me. Now you know why I want you to meet her 
and the members of her family. General Amsden is 
in California settling up the estate of a brother who 
recently died there. His daughter and a niece are 
with my aunt.” 

Raymond’s eyes were filled with tears. The faces of 
his mother and Grandmother Benson shone lovingly 
on his mental vision. He had been blessed with two 
mothers, while his roommate had lived his lonesome 
childhood without any. He turned impulsively to 
Mansur and clasped his hand in a warm grasp. For 
a moment neither spoke. 

“ I thank you for your invitation,” he said, a little 
unsteadily, “ and also for — for this revelation of your- 
self.” 

A beautiful smile illumined Mansur’s face. 

“ We are beginning to get acquainted,” he said. 


CHAPTER V 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS* 

The frosts of early autumn were painting the New 
England landscape in gorgeous tints of scarlet and 
russet and gold. The chill of approaching winter was 
already in the cool October air. Inside the spacious 
sitting-room of the Amsden house a large open fire 
crackled and blazed upon the old-fashioned andirons, 
roaring gleefully up the wide chimney and filling the 
two young ladies who sat on either side of it with a 
gratified sense of comfort and cheer. 

An antique mahogany table, upon which burned a 
shaded student lamp, was drawn up between them. 
The flames from the big fireplace threw a glare over 
the room and its furnishings, and brought the two 
fair young faces into sharp relief against the deepen- 
ing shadows behind them. It also emphasized their 
opposite types of beauty. One was of medium height, 
straight and lithe of form, with energetic movements, 
full dark eyes, and a wealth of heavy black hair. The 
other was a decided blonde, with light hair, blue eyes, 
and a figure distinctly petite. She was not as beautiful 
as her companion in form or feature, but there was 
something distinctly attractive and winsome in her 
56 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS’ 


57 


appearance, as she wrinkled her small brows over the 
piece of embroidery she was doing, and tapped a little 
foot upon the big brass fender. 

“ Do you really suppose he’ll bring him ? ” she asked, 
breaking a silence that was becoming oppressive. 

Janet Amsden laid down her book and turned a 
smiling face upon her cousin. 

“ Are you growing anxious, my dear ? ” she asked 
mischievously. “ You must remember that Charlie 
gave you his solemn promise. I never knew him to 
break one. I have no doubt your young knight errant 
is on his way here, arrayed in his best bib and tucker.” 

“ Bib and tucker ! 5 ” sniffed Alice, contemptuously. 
“ I do wish, Janet, you’d be a little more — er — well, 
dignified.” 

“ Ah, taking up cudgels already? Really, Alice, I 
did not suspect the affair was growing so serious. 
What will it become when you really know him ? ” 

Alice breathed a sigh. 

“ Perhaps he won’t be nice after all,” she said. 

“ Oh, I don’t think you need fear,” laughed Janet. 
“ Charlie vouches for him in most positive terms. In 
fact he comes nearer to being enthusiastic over this 
precocious Freshman than I ever saw him over any- 
thing before.” 

Alice turned upon her cousin with a look of triumph. 
“ There ! Who’s using the cudgels now ? ” she cried, 
with a mock courtesy. “ Go on, my dear, I’m sure 
you wield them far more effectively than I can.” 


58 


THE KENTON PINES 


Janet smiled indulgently. 

“ I was only bolstering up your peace of mind, bonne 
amie.” 

“What’s the use of making believe?” pouted her 
cousin. “You are so — so — self-contained, Janet. 
You always make me feel kind of, real — er — well, 
young, and you know I’m two whole days older than 
you are.” 

Janet opened her eyes wide. She never was quite 
sure how to take this vivacious relative. 

“ And wherein have I offended now, my dear? ” she 
cried. 

“ Why, you know you’re just as anxious to meet 
Mr. Benson as I am — more so, I think. Still you 
pretend to be so superior and indifferent about it.” 

Miss Amsden started to take up her book, then laid 
it down again. “ And what, pray, has this remarkable 
young man done to arouse all this interest? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, everything,” said Alice, enthusiastically. 

“Well, what, for instance?” 

“ Why, won the football game and the baseball 
game — and — ” 

“ Was ducked by the Sophomores,” interposed Miss 
Amsden, with twinkling eyes. “ Charlie saw them 
when they did it.” 

Alice stamped her foot with indignation. 

“ Oh, those Sophomores — they know so much ! 
They do such awful hateful things! I think they’re 
just — just horrid, there!” she cried. 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS’ 


59 


“ 1 guess your young Lochinvar would have left his 
mark on the one who did it, if he could have laid 
hands on him that time/’ continued Miss Amsden. 
“ I gathered that he was not in an angelic mood/’ 

“ I should have honored him for it,” said Alice 
stoutly. 

“ No, you wouldn’t, little cousin militant,” replied 
Miss Amsden, with good-natured conviction. “ You 
would have — ” 

She broke off abruptly, being interrupted by the 
entrance of her mother. 

Mrs. Amsden was taller than her daughter, and 
somewhat stouter. Her features were fair and regular, 
and although her brown hair was beginning to be 
streaked with grey, the brightness of her blue eyes, and 
the clearness of her complexion, made her look younger 
than she really was. She was still a handsome woman, 
whose dignity of bearing and charm of manner pro- 
claimed the lady. 

She held up a warning finger to Janet and Alice. 
“ Dear me ! Disputing again ? ” she smiled. “ What 
in the world am I going to do with you girls ? ” 

“ I think we are both hopeless cases, Aunt Annie,” 
laughed Alice. “ You’d better give us up.” 

“ I think I’ll stay with you a little longer,” returned 
Mrs. Amsden as she took the seat Janet had drawn in 
front of the fire for her. “ How cheerful you are. 
I have just received a letter from your father,” she 
added, turning to Janet. 


6o 


THE KENTON PINES 


“Oh, did you?” returned her daughter eagerly, 
“and when is papa coming back?” 

“ He is still in Los Angeles, but hopes to start for 
home sometime in November. He says the California 
oil fields look very promising, and he is confident that 
his brother’s stock will eventually turn out to be a very 
profitable investment.” 

“Oh, isn’t that good!” said Janet delightedly. 
“ Really I — ” 

A ring at the door-bell interrupted the sentence, and 
a moment later Charlie Mansur and Raymond Benson 
were shown into the room. 

“ Good-evening, Aunt Annie. Good-evening, girls,” 
was the tall Senior’s cheerful greeting. Mrs. Amsden, 
allow me to make you acquainted with my roommate, 
Mr. Benson.” 

“ I am very glad to know you, Mr. Benson,” said 
Mrs. Amsden cordially. “ Charlie has told me so much 
about you that I feel as if we had been acquainted for 
some time.” 

Mansur laid his hand affectionately on his aunt’s 
shoulder. 

“ This is my other mother, Benson,” he said, “ and 
one who has been very good to me.” 

She turned to him with a fond smile. 

“ Charlie is my boy — my only one,” she said, with 
an accent of tenderness in her voice. “ I should have 
been glad to have had him all the time; but his father 
couldn’t spare him.” 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS’ 6 1 

“ I think he has been very fortunate in being your 
nephew/’ said Raymond gallantly. 

“ Thank you,” said Mrs. Amsden, with a smile. 
“ And now let me present you to my daughter, Mr. 
Benson.” 

Janet extended her hand with frank cordiality. “ I 
am always glad to know my cousin’s frends,” she said 
graciously. 

“ I am very glad to meet you, Miss Amsden,” 
responded Raymond. 

“ And also to my niece, Miss Mercer, from New 
Jersey, who is visiting us this winter,” continued Mrs. 
Amsden, turning to Alice. 

“ You must look out for her, Benson,” interrupted 
Mansur, with a droll twinkle in his eyes. “ She’s a 
regular little fire-eater.” 

“Now what sort of an introduction is that?” pro- 
tested Alice, as she gave a warm little hand to Ray- 
mond. “ Really, Mr. Benson, I hope you won’t think 
too badly of me.” 

“ Indeed, I’ll not. I always take what my room- 
mate says 'with a due amount of seasoning.” 

“ I’m glad you have found him out,” was the demure 
response. “ I feel easier now. I am very glad to 
make your acquaintance, Mr. Benson,” she added 
impulsively. 

“ I assure you the pleasure is mutual,” said Ray- 
mond gallantly. 

“ Charlie,” said Mrs. Amsden, turning to her nephew, 


62 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I must go and see old Mrs. Graves, this evening. 
She is sick, poor soul, and thinks no one else will do. 
I will constitute you the chaperon of this little party,” 
and with a nod and a smile she left the room. 

“ Please don’t turn on the electric lights just yet, 
Janet,” cried Mansur to his cousin, who was moving 
towards the switch. “ This fire looks very inviting. 
Just widen out your family circle a bit and let Benson 
and me thaw out here in the gloaming. You mustn’t 
make company of us.” 

“You wouldn’t let us if we wanted to,” laughed 
Miss Amsden. “ Really, Mr. Benson, you can’t imag- 
ine how he lords it over us.” 

“ Oh, I know what he’s capable of,” said Raymond. 

“ Now, this is the real thing, Benson,” declared 
Mansur, as he and Raymond seated themselves in the 
chairs which Miss Amsden had placed for them before 
the big open fire. “ What is more inspiring on this 
mundane sphere than such a vision of warmth and love- 
liness?” he added, waving his hand in a circle wide 
enough to include the young ladies, both of whom 
flushed with some embarrassment, to his very evident 
amusement. 

“ Charles Mansur ! ” cried Alice, warningly. 

“ What is it, little one ? ” he asked, with a pretense 
of innocence. 

“ Please confine your remarks to the fire, and we’ll 
excuse you if you omit the gestures,” she added, 
severely. 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS’ 


63 


“ Now, isn’t that hard on a fellow, Benson?” pro- 
tested Mansur. “ Just when I am beginning to feel 
the inspiration of this fire — am on the verge, in fact, 
of electrifying you all with a poem, she ruthlessly shuts 
off my field of vision with the fender.” 

It is always hard for some kinds of genius to soar,” 
returned Raymond. 

“ Not his, I assure you, Mr. Benson,” said Miss 
Amsden with emphasis. “ That is its most pronounced 
characteristic.” 

“ Aside from its diffusiveness,” added Alice. 

Mansur threw up his hands in mock alarm. “ Help! 
Help ! Benson,” he cried. “ Don’t you see it’s two 
against one ? ” 

“ You must fight your own battles,” returned Ray- 
mond. 

“ Et tu, Brute!” exclaimed Mansur, reproachfully. 

“ I’m sure he’s tall enough to look out for himself,” 
said Alice, with sparkling eyes. 

“ And look down on the rest of us,” added Miss 
Amsden. 

“ In the language of the late lamented Artemus 
Ward, this is ‘ 2 mutch, 2 mutch.’ I think it is high 
time I gave you more light on the subject,” and rising 
Mansur turned the electric switch, sending a flood of 
light into the big room, with its quaint old-fashioned 
mahogany furniture, its figured velvet carpet, and 
damask draperies. It was evident that General Ams- 
den was a man of means, as well as high standing. 


6 4 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Come, cousin mine,” continued Mansur as he 
opened up the piano. “ Just a bit of music, before we 
proceed to the more serious purposes of the evening.” 

Miss Amsden seated herself at the piano and struck 
up a lively waltz. 

Mansur made a profound bow to Alice. “ May I 
have the pleasure ? ” he asked. 

“ I’m not sure that you deserve it.” 

“ Kindly condescend to smile on my unworthiness.” 

“ Well, this once; but you must behave better in the 
future,” smiled Alice, and a moment later she and 
Mansur were waltzing lightly around the big room. 

Raymond, who stood beside Miss Amsden at the 
piano, saw that his roommate excelled in dancing, as 
he did in almost everything to which he gave his 
attention. 

The music ceased. 

“ This is the long and short of it, Benson,” cried 
Mansur whimsically, as he led Alice to a seat. 

“ Do you dance, Mr. Benson? ” asked Miss Amsden, 
turning from the piano. 

“ I regret to say I do not,” replied Raymond. “ It 
wasn’t in the curriculum at Krampton Academy.” 

“ You must go to the Junior and Senior dancing 
schools,” said Mansur. “ I hereby extend to you a 
very cordial invitation. Let me introduce you to my 
partner,” he added, turning to Alice. 

“ And let me congratulate you on youf good for- 
tune,” rejoined Raymond heartily. 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS’ 


65 


“ Thank yon, Mr. Benson,” said Miss Mercer, blush- 
ing at the compliment. 

“ I don’t see how I can very well go,” said Ray- 
mond, “ that is,” he added with some hesitation, as an 
inspiration came to him, “ unless Miss Amsden will take 
pity on me.” 

“ I should be very glad indeed to go with you, Mr. 
Benson,” replied Miss Amsden promptly. 

“ Thank you,” said Raymond. “ I warn you that 
you will find me very awkward.” 

“ I don’t think you need to give yourself any 
uneasiness, Mr. Benson. One who plays football and 
baseball as well as you do will have no difficulty in 
learning to dance — especially under so fine a teacher 
as Prof. Bemis.” 

“ I trust I may not disappoint you,” said Raymond. 

“ And now for the whist,” cried Mansur, pushing 
the table near the big fireplace, and producing a pack 
of cards. “ Cut for partners. Aha! It’s Janet and 
I against you and Alice.” 

“ Oh, dear ! ” said Miss Mercer dolefully. “ Are 
you a good player, Mr. Benson?” 

“ No, I’m a very poor one,” acknowledged Ray- 
mond, frankly. 

Miss Mercer looked relieved. 

“ I’m real glad of it,” she responded brightly. “ I 
am positively stupid. I never try to remember only 
a few of the leading cards in each suit.” 

“ That’s more than I can do,” confessed Raymond. 


66 


THE KENTON PINES 


Soon the quartette were engaged in a very enjoyable 
game. Although Mansur and Miss Amsden had the 
advantage of superior skill, the cards, with unaccount- 
able perversity, ran against them, and when the play 
finally ceased they were only two points ahead. 

The table was then spread with a beautifully 
embroidered tea-cloth, and a chafing dish lunch of 
Welsh rarebit served on small toasted soda crackers, 
and accompanied with dainty cups of coffee, was thor- 
oughly enjoyed by the members of the party. 

When the boys finally took their departure, it was 
with the conviction that they had passed a very pleasant 
evening. As they came under the street lamp Ray- 
mond paused and looked at his watch with a whistle 
of dismay. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” demanded Mansur. 

“ Why, it’s half-past eleven o’clock.” 

“ Just the edge of the evening, my boy. Let’s take 
a little stroll. I want to digest that coffee and cheese 
before I retire for the night.” 

They walked slowly down the main street to the 
bridge which spanned the seething river below the big 
cotton mill. For a few moments they stood leaning 
upon the rail, silently watching the mighty flow as it 
rolled majestically over the dam, surged and foamed 
with angry roar and driving spray upon the jagged 
ledges below, and finally made its way with frothy 
streaks to the quieter current of the meadows. The 
full moon, and a myriad of stars that shone from a 


AN EVENING AT THE AMSDENS’ 67 

clear, cold sky, lit up the night with their pale radiance, 
and threw into relief the frosty glitter of the first icy 
crystals that had commenced to form along the rocky 
shores, completing a scene of rare grandeur and beauty. 
Both Mansur and Raymond were deeply impressed by 
it, and for a time they walked back to the college in 
silence, each busy with his own reflections. 

Presently Mansur spoke. 

“ What did you think of it ? ” he asked. 

“ It was grand.” 

“ Scenes like that,” continued the tall Senior reflect- 
ively, “ always emphasize anew to me, what a small 
thing, in the measureless sweep of time and eternity, 
is man; I feel a sense of awe in the presence of those 
aspects of nature, that emphasize, and give material 
expression to the majesty of an overruling Providence. 
How can we look upon such scenes, Benson, and still 
deny the existence of their Creator ? ” 

“ I can’t imagine,” said Raymond. 

A new phase of Mansur’s many-sided nature had 
been revealed to him, like a passing combination in a 
kaleidoscope. 


CHAPTER VI 


AN EVENTFUL NIGHT 


“ Like every honest fellow, I drink my whiskey clear, 

I’m a rambling rake o’ poverty and the son of a gambolier.” 

Raymond and Mansur paused in their walk to listen. 
The tall Senior’s mood had changed. 

“ Some of the boys have been eating a late supper,” 
he laughed, as the light breeze bore to their ears the 
strains of this rollicking song, together with the bois- 
terous shouts and noisy cheers of a party of students 
roistering slowly up the street towards the campus. 

“ And a hot one, too, I should judge,” said Ray- 
mond. 

Mansur stopped to listen again. 

“ I guess there’s more wind than wassail there,” he 
commented lightly, as he resumed his walk. 

“ Do you think so? ” asked Raymond, a little incred- 
ulously. “ I thought there was plenty of both.” 

Mansur laughed. 

“ Oh, they are not nearly as drunk as they seem,” 
he said. “ Possibly one or two of them are a trifle 
sprung. The rest are as sober as you or I. There 
are not many drinking students at Kenton; but those 
68 


AN EVENTFUL NIGHT 


69 


few are apt to make themselves conspicuous, and so 
convey to the public a contrary impression. You know 
the unsophisticated are always liable to mistake the 
exuberance of youthful spirits for ardent spirits.” 

They walked along briskly, and in a short time over- 
took the party, who proved to be Sophomores returning 
from a late repast at Joe Bopard’s night lunch room. 
They greeted Mansur and Raymond with vociferous 
warmth. The tall Senior smiled upon them, benig- 
nantly. 

“ Just a trifle high pressure, aren’t you, boys? There 
are certain staid citizens of Plainsville who make a 
practice of sleeping about this time of night,” he good- 
humoredly expostulated. 

“ That’s precisely what old Bunce, the night officer, 
just told us,” laughed big Tom Kidder, who appeared 
to be the leader of the party. 

“ And I told him, sir — that’s what I did,” interposed 
Ben Perley, the smallest member of the group, in 
oratorical tones, as he leaned unsteadily against a tree 
by the sidewalk, “ I asseverated to that gen’man — I 
did honestly, sir — that it would be advisable, and — 
and appropriate, for him to migrate to a warmer 
climate.” 

“ And what did he say to that ? ” queried Mansur. 

“ Oh, he told Skates to dry up,” grinned Kidder. 
“ Said if he didn’t he’d take him to a place that would 
hold him just as well as the one he’d mentioned, if it 
wasn’t quite so hot.” 


70 


THE KENTON PINES 


The members of the group laughed uproariously at 
this recital, to Perley’s evident discomfiture. 

“ I must say, gen’men — ” he began — 

“ Oh, shut up ! ” interrupted Kidder, impatiently. 
“ Now, gentlemen,” he continued, turning to the other 
members of the group, “ will you kindly inform me 
who was George Washington?” 

“ First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts 
of his coun — try — men,” came the prompt answer in 
stentorian chorus, punctuated by the pounding of canes 
upon the concrete sidewalk. 

“Very good,” approved Kidder, “ and now, gentle- 
men, please let us have that sweet old slumber song, 
‘ We Won’t Go Home Until Morning.’ ” 

The members of the group started to sing; but, 
suddenly, at a warning cry from their leader, broke 
into a run towards the campus. 

Raymond turned to see what had caused this stam- 
pede, when a dark form dashed quickly from a side 
street and a strong hand grasped him by the collar. 

“ This thing’s got to stop,” said the policeman vigor- 
ously, as he dragged him towards the station. “ I’ve 
used you all white, and given you fair warning.” 

“ Why, what have I done? ” gasped Raymond, com- 
pletely dazed by the sudden turn of affairs. 

“ Hold on there, officer ! ” interposed Mansur, 
sharply. “ You have made a mistake. This man has 
had nothing whatever to do with the disturbance.” 

“ You can just bet I’m going to hold on,” said the 



A STRONG HAND GRASPED HIM BY THE COEEAR. — Page 70, 





an eventful night 


7 1 


policeman, grimly, “ leastwise till I reach a proper place 
to let go. I s’pose both of you are just getting home 
from a church sociable.” 

“ I don’t blame you for enforcing order,” said 
Mansur warmly, “ but when you make an arrest you 
ought to be mighty sure that you’ve got the right man.” 

“ That will do,” said the officer, sharply. “ I know 
my business, and if you give me any more of your 
cheap talk I’ll run you in, too.” 

“ It would be a warm job for you, if you did,” said 
Mansur, in a voice that trembled with suppressed rage. 
“ Don’t you worry, old man,” he added to Raymond. 
“ I’m well acquainted with Judge Prindable. I’ll rout 
him up, and have you released inside of an hour,” and, 
turning on his heel, he strode excitedly up the street. 

“ This is bad business, officer,” said Raymond. 

“ That’s what I think, too,” was the curt response. 

“ I was not in that party at all. My roommate and 
I overtook them on our way to the college. I had no 
part in their disturbance. I never opened my mouth.” 

“ No doubt! No doubt!” sneered the policeman, 
incredulously. “ I s’pose we’ll find out later on that 
they really didn’t make any noise; that it all came 
from some old maid’s escaped parrot in one of the 
tree-tops.” The officer indulged in a low chuckle at 
his own humor. “ What was you prowlin’ around at 
this time o’ night for, anyway ? ” he demanded. 

“ We had been making a call. After that we took 
a walk to the bridge, and were on our way home.” 


72 


THE KENTON PINES 


“Likely story!” sniffed the officer. “Try again, 
young feller. I know just where you made that call — 
saw the whole of you into Joe Bopard’s.” 

“ I haven’t been near Bopard’s to-night,” protested 
Raymond, warmly. 

“ Of course not,” was the skeptical response. “ I 
think I allowed that you and your high and mighty 
chum had probably just returned from a church soci- 
able. Come, walk along.” 

“ You needn’t be so rough about it,” cried Raymond, 
hotly. “ I’m no pickpocket.” 

“ Sure not,” said the officer, relaxing his grip a little. 
“ You’re simply a young steam calliope in trousers. 
There’s proper times and places to let off steam, young 
feller, but it isn’t on the main street of this village at 
one o’clock in the morning — no, not by a long chalk.” 

By this time they had reached a narrow side street 
shadowed on either side by tall buildings and towering 
elms. As they passed in front of it, there came a rush 
of feet, and the officer was suddenly bowled over with 
a force that released his hold on his prisoner’s collar 
and sent him sprawling into the street. 

“ Light out ! ” cried a familiar voice in Raymond’s 
ear, and he lost no time in acting upon the suggestion. 

Half an hour later, flushed and excited with the 
night’s experiences, he was back in his room again 
with Mansur, Carl Lennox, and Victor Evans. 

“ One thing is certain, boys, everything is well that 
ends well,” announced the tall Senior. 


'AN EVENTFUL NIGHT 


73 


“ How did you bring it about, anyway?” asked 
Raymond, who had not yet recovered from his bewil- 
derment at the unexpected outcome of the adventure. 
“ I thought you were going for the Judge.” 

“ I was,” laughed Mansur, “ but only as a last resort. 
I tried first to get that Sophomore gang to do the 
rushing with me, but they refused. They appeared to 
extract considerable amusement from the fact that a 
Freshman had fallen innocently into the clutches of 
the law. Kidder was kind enough to inform me, very 
solemnly, that the experience would prove a valuable 
part of your education. In fact, they acted detestably. 
I gave them the shake and was going back to try my 
persuasiveness on the officer again, when I spied Evans 
and Lennox coming up on the other side of the street. 
They had just come in on the midnight train, and were 
making their way back to the college after a lunch at 
Bopard’s. You know the rest.” 

“ I fancy I did a very polished job of tackling on 
that fellow,” said Lennox, cheerfully. “ I thought I 
should die laughing, though, to see the way Vic gave 
him the shoulder and knocked the wind out of him.” 

“ It was a very cold shoulder for Bunce,” asserted 
Mansur. “ I rather think even those Sophomores, 
who slunk back in the shadow of the trees to watch 
for trouble, would admit that much.” 

" I’m sure, boys,” said Raymond gratefully, “ I don’t 
know how to thank you enough for what you’ve done 
for me. I shall not forget it.” 


74 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Don’t mention it, old boy,” “ Glad of the chance,” 
was the hearty response, and, bidding Mansur and 
Raymond good-night, Evans and Lennox took their 
departure. 

Raymond was busily at work the following Monday 
morning getting out a Greek lesson in the absence of 
his roommate, who was attending a recitation, when 
there came a rap at the door. 

“ Come ! ” he shouted, and, in response to his sum- 
mons, Kidder and Perley of the Sophomore class 
entered the room. 

“ We’ve dropped in, Benson,” said Kidder affably, 
as they took the seats Raymond made haste to offer 
them, “ to have a little talk with you about the affair 
of last Saturday night.” 

Raymond colored with embarrassment, and nodded 
his head. 

“ We don’t want you to think for a minute,” con- 
tinued the big Sophomore, “ that we were not just as 
anxious to save you from the clutches of old Bunce as 
Mansur was, or that we would be mean enough to go 
back on a fellow student in time of trouble.” 

“ Most certainly not,” interposed Perley, with 
emphasis. 

“ The truth is, though, that we were not willing to 
commit the very serious offence against the law which 
Mansur proposed. In fact, while he is one of the finest 
fellows in the world, he seemed to have completely lost 
his head. Assaulting an officer, and forcibly releasing 


AN EVENTFUL NIGHT 


75 


a prisoner, is a pretty serious offence, Benson. It was 
a bright night, and while the place for the coup was 
well chosen, in the shadow of those trees and buildings, 
still Bunce, who had already spotted us at Bopard’s, 
would have been dead sure to have recognized some, 
if not all of us. We simply didn’t care to take the 
chance, feeling that it would be wiser to rout out old 
Squire Prindable, state the facts to him, and secure 
your release in a safe and legal manner.” 

“ That’s a fact, Benson,” corroborated Perley, “ and 
I want to say to you frankly that I was the only man 
in our crowd who was under the influence of liquor. 
I’ve no excuse to offer. I have my faults, but I don’t 
wish other fellows to be credited with them. I’ll carry 
them on my own shoulders.” 

Raymond nodded again. He could think of no 
appropriate comment to make upon this straight- 
forward confession, although he was conscious of a 
distinctly better opinion of Perley. 

“ I’m sorry for the way the matter was handled,” 
pursued Kidder, soberly. 

“ Well, it let me out all right,” said Raymond. 

“ That’s very true, Benson, so far as you were con- 
cerned,” assented the big Sophomore, “ but I’m sorry 
to see a good fellow like Mansur in such a bad scrape.” 

Raymond turned pale. 

“ What do you mean?” he asked, anxiously. 

Kidder looked at him in surprise. 

“ Why, haven't you heard about it ? ” he asked. 


76 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ About what?” 

“ The warrant that is out for Mansur’s arrest.” 

“ No, I certainly haven’t,” said Raymond. “ Does 
he know of it ? ” 

“ I should suppose he must,” said Kidder. “ He’s 
very likely to say nothing about it, though. He’s a 
little — er — ” 

“ Queer,” interrupted Perley, with a laugh. “ Why 
don’t you say it, Kid? Benson knows that as well as 
you or I do.” 

“ Eccentric, would be a better word,” said Kidder, 
with a smile. “ He doesn’t give a Hannah Cook for 
anyone when he starts out to do a thing. He’s simply 
reckless, and has no regard whatever for conse- 
quences.” 

“ He’s toned down considerably the last year or so. 
They say he was the worst daredevil in college as a 
Freshman and a Sophomore,” interposed Perley. “ I 
guess that’s how he came to be so well acquainted with 
Squire Prindable. Do you know, I could scarcely 
keep from shouting, Saturday night, when I heard him 
offering to intercede for you with the Squire.” 

It occurred to Raymond that Perley had been in a 
shouting condition on that occasion, but he made no 
comment. 

“ We noticed, however,” resumed Kidder, insinu- 
atingly, “ that upon cooler reflection he decided to 
adopt a more certain method of effecting your release. 
It was perfect folly, however, for him to proceed as 


AN EVENTFUL NIGHT 


77 


he did. Bunce can’t identify you Freshmen, because 
you haven’t been here long enough for him to spot 
you.” 

“ And he certainly wasn’t very well placed for calm 
and critical observation so far as Evans and Lennox 
were concerned,” chuckled Perley. 

Raymond was greatly disturbed not only by what 
had been told him, but also by Kidder’s and Perley’s 
very evident knowledge of what had occurred. He 
was fidgety, and ill at ease. The leisurely presence of 
his callers oppressed him, and he waited, nervously, 
for them to take their departure. 

“ Pm sure I don’t blame you fellows for not inter- 
fering,” he said. “ It was your fun that caused my 
arrest; but you didn’t ask me to join your party or 
to take any risks on your own account.” 

“ No one was to blame for your arrest — least of 
all yourself,” asserted Kidder with emphasis. “ It was 
a mere accident. Lots of good fellows have had the 
same experience. The only unfortunate thing about 
the whole affair is Mansur’s share in it, which is very 
likely to give him a winter in the county jail.” 

Raymond turned pale. 

“The county jail! Surely you can’t mean that!” 
he cried, in genuine alarm. 

“ That’s about the size of it, Benson,” sighed Perley, 
regretfully. “ You see the judge has got mighty sick 
of having our local police officers rushed by college 
men. The last time it happened he gave fair warning 


78 


THE KENTON PINES 


that if it occurred again he would not let the guilty 
parties off with a fine, but would impose a straight jail 
sentence. The only one in the crowd old Bunce recog- 
nized was Mansur, whom he knew perfectly well. 
That’s why a warrant was issued for him alone.” 

“ You needn’t feel the slightest alarm, though, 
Benson,” said Kidder reassuringly. “ Charlie Mansur 
is true blue. He’d rather die than give any one of 
you away.” 

“ I can’t let him suffer on my account ! ” exclaimed 
Raymond, in genuine distress. “ What can I do to 
help him?” 

“ The only thing I can think of,” replied Kidder, in 
a tone of conviction, “ is for you to go to Judge Prin- 
dable and make a clean breast of the whole matter. 
The old man always did have a warm corner in his 
heart for Freshmen. Well, so long, Benson. We’re 
glad to know that you entertain no hard feelings 
towards us,” and Kidder and Perley departed, leaving 
Raymond in a most uncomfortable frame of mind. 

The more he reflected upon the matter, as he paced 
agitatedly up and down the room, the more he was 
impressed with the good sense of Kidder’s suggestion. 
It was certainly very kind of the two Sophomores to 
come to him in such a frank and friendly way. He 
saw plainly that, in the anxiety to do him a service, 
Mansur had been led into the commission of a lawless 
act which bade fair to have very serious consequences 
And now a warrant was out for him ! Perhaps, indeed, 


AN EVENTFUL NIGHT 


79 


it had already been served! and his roommate would 
be tried before a judge who had publicly announced 
that the next case of the kind would be given a jail 
sentence. Raymond shut his lips together tightly. Not 
for anything in the world would he permit Mansur to 
make such a sacrifice on his account. Hastily donning 
his coat and hat, he started for the City hall. When 
he arrived there, somewhat out of breath, he found 
that the court room was locked, and the judge had gone 
home. Obtaining directions from the janitor, he made 
his way to the Prindable homestead, a big, square, old- 
fashioned dwelling, with mansard roof, which stood 
in the suburbs of the village. 

The Squire answered his use of the big brass knocker, 
in person, and ushered him into his library, a large 
sunny room situated on the south side of the house at 
the rear end of the spacious hallway. 


CHAPTER VII 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 

Before the organization of the municipal court at 
Plainsville, the venerable lawyer who presided over it 
had performed the same functions in the capacity of a 
trial justice, and was still commonly referred to by his 
old title. He was about seventy years of age, with 
deep-set blue eyes, shadowed by shaggy brows, a large 
head whose shining summit was sparsely fringed with 
grey hair, and a long thin face whose most conspicuous 
feature was a nose of disproportionate prominence. A 
square jaw and firm mouth, slightly drooping at the 
corners, gave him a look of austerity. A scraggly 
growth of whiskers hung from his chin, completing a 
shrewd Yankee countenance that was suggestive of 
“ Uncle Sam ” in his most serious aspect. The Squire 
wore gold-bowed spectacles of which he appeared to 
make little use. Much of the time they were pushed 
back upon his forehead, and when they rested upon his 
nose, he had a habit of inclining his head and peering 
over them, as if they hindered, rather than assisted, his 
vision. 

He showed Raymond to a chair by the big open wood 
fire with cordial hospitality, and, taking a seat by the 
80 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 


8l 


big flat-topped desk that filled the center of the room, 
turned to him with an inquiring nod of his head. 

Raymond was conscious that the blue eyes that peered 
searchingly at him over the Squire’s glasses, were study- 
ing him with penetrating keenness. Without any hesi- 
tation, he plunged directly into the purpose of his call. 
The Squire listened to the recital without comment. 
Two or three times Raymond fancied that he detected a 
gleam of humor beneath the shaggy eyebrows, but he 
banished the base suspicion immediately. Surely the 
Judge of a municipal court could find nothing amusing 
in such a humiliating confession. 

“ That’s all, sir,” he said with a sigh, as he concluded. 

The Squire pushed his spectacles back upon his fore- 
head. There was no longer any doubt about it. Ray- 
mond saw with amazement that there was an unmis- 
takable twinkle in his eye. 

“ Ah — um — yes. You don’t appear to have recog- 
nized the young men who came to your assistance,” he 
said, lifting his brows, inquiringly. 

“ I didn’t recognize them at the time, sir,” returned 
Raymond with some trepidation. “ Of course,” he 
added desperately, “ I — I know who they are, but I 
couldn’t tell that.” 

“ No,” was the Squire’s comment, “ I suppose not. 
You don’t look like that kind of a boy. I wouldn’t 
have much respect for you if you did. Um — ah — 
that is, of course, except in — er — open court, and 
under compulsion of an oath,” he hastened to add. 


82 


THE KENTON PINES 


The Squire evidently felt the need of proceeding with 
more caution. He drummed his long fingers reflect- 
ively upon the big copy of the Revised Statutes which 
lay upon his desk, for what seemed to Raymond to be 
an almost interminable time, before he relieved the 
suspense. 

“ How did you find out about the warrant against 
Mansur ? ” he asked, abruptly. 

“ Some friends were kind enough to tell me.” 

“ Sophomore friends, were they not? ” 

“ Why, yes,” admitted Raymond, faintly. 

“ I suspected as much,” continued the Squire. “ The 
fact is no warrant has been issued against Mansur.” 

Raymond looked aghast. He was completely dazed 
by this unexpected announcement. 

“ No warrant?” he repeated incredulously, as if he 
had not heard aright. 

“ No,” said the Squire positively, and with the faint 
suspicion of a smile, “ and what’s more your statement 
is absolutely the first information I have received con- 
cerning the Saturday night affair. Bunce never said a 
word about it.” 

Tears of mortification stood in Raymond’s eyes, as he 
sunk back in his chair in an agony of chagrin. 

“ It’s all a hoax ! I’ve been fooled ! ” he exclaimed, 
bitterly. 

“ It would surely look that way, my boy,” said the 
Squire, kindly. “ I wouldn’t take it to heart if I were 
you,” he added, with ready sympathy. “ Believe me, 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 83 

the manly course you have pursued reflects nothing but 
credit on you.” 

“ Oh, but it does,” groaned Raymond. “ The fel- 
lows will think I’m a — a chump.” 

“ sure they will think nothing of the sort,” said 
the Squire, encouragingly. 

“ Excuse me a moment,” and rising he passed out of 
the room, leaving Raymond looking crushed and humili- 
ated. He was gone but a moment. “ I fancy I can tell 
you who your Sophomore friends were,” he announced 
upon his return. “ They were Kidder and Perley.” 

Raymond jumped from his chair, in sheer astonish- 
ment. “ How do you — ” 

He stopped abruptly. 

“ Know? ” finished the Squire, quietly. “ Well, I’ve 
been a Kenton boy myself, and am somewhat familiar 
with their ways. I made the acquaintance of Mr. Kid- 
der very early in his course. In fact I was called out of 
bed in the middle of the night just about a year ago, to 
release him from custody. Mr. Perley came for me. I 
may add, too, that he arrived in a very humble frame 
of mind.” 

He paused and indulged in a dry chuckle, as if the 
recollection afforded him some amusement. 

“ Come with me,” he said turning to Raymond, “ and 
I’ll show you something that I think will interest you.” 

In a vain endeavor to conjecture what might be com- 
ing, Raymond followed him into the hallway. 

The Squire paused by the big front door, and drew 


8 4 


THE KENTON PINES 


slightly back one of the muslin curtains that covered the 
side-lights. “ Look across the street and see what you 
discover,” he said. 

Raymond did as directed and was amazed to see Kid- 
der and Perley promenading up and down the sidewalk 
beneath the broad branching elms. Their faces were 
wreathed in smiles, and evidently they were feeling well 
satisfied with themselves and the world. Raymond had 
no doubt that they were felicitating themselves upon 
the ease with which they had victimized him, and the 
sight was all that was necessary to complete the burden 
of his misery. He gritted his teeth, and for a moment 
felt a wild impulse to dash out upon them, and call them 
to account then and there. 

The Squire laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder. 

“ Don’t you give yourself needless trouble about this 
matter,” he said gently. “ Nothing further will come 
of it, and I am certainly glad of the opportunity it has 
afforded me to make your acquaintance.” He opened 
the door into the big parlor, furnished with quaint 
black walnut furniture upholstered in haircloth. “ Let 
us go in here,” he said. “ We can get a better view 
from the front of the house. Let me see,” he continued 
when they were seated, “ did I understand you to say 
that your name was Raymond Benson ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Any relation to Andrew Benson of Chestnut ? ” 

“ I’m his grandson. ” 

“ I want to know ! ” said the Squire with new interest, 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 


85 


extending his hand warmly. “ Your grandfather and I 
were schoolmates years ago at the old Belville Academy. 
He was a splendid fellow, Raymond, and I am satisfied 
that you are worthy to bear his name. I am pleased to 
know you, and I trust this call may not be your last. 
Wife and I will be glad to see you any time.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Raymond, gratefully. 

The Squire walked slowly up and down the room 
several times with his hands clasped behind him. His 
face wore a far-away look. 

“ We had a boy of our own once,” he said pausing 
before a bay window that commanded a view of the 
broad street, “ our only child. He graduated from 
Kenton with honors, studied law in my office, and, after 
his admission to the bar, formed a partnership with me. 
Then the war came. He received a captain’s commis- 
sion, and raised a company. We watched him march 
away at the head of his men to take the train for the 
front. It was the last time we ever saw him alive,” he 
continued, huskily. “ His body came back to us from 
the bloody field at Gettysburg. We laid him away 
under the big pines in the cemetery.” He paused and 
sighed deeply. “The old house has been lonesome ever 
since, but mother and I have kept a little place in our 
hearts for all boys,” he added, simply. 

Tears stood in Raymond’s eyes. He dare not trust 
himself to speak. 

A sweet-faced, motherly-looking woman opened the 
door to announce dinner. 


86 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Come in, mother,” said the Squire. “ Let me make 
you acquainted, with Raymond Benson, the grandson of 
my old friend, Andrew Benson. ,, 

“ I am very glad to know you, Mr. Benson,” she said 
with a warm smile, giving him her hand. “ Are you 
at Kenton ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 

“ Then I hope we may have opportunities to become 
better acquainted with you.” 

“ Put on another plate, mother,” said the Squire. 
“ Mr. Benson will stop to dinner with us. Come to 
think of it, you may put on three more. No, no,” he 
protested hastily, as Raymond started to excuse himself, 
“ you must humor me. You know it isn’t every day we 
get a chance to entertain an escaped prisoner. And 
now,” he added, “ I must leave you a moment while I 
do a little errand,” and going into the hall, he quickly 
opened the front door. 

“ Hey, there ! One moment, boys ! ” he shouted to 
Kidder and Perley, who had started to walk away. 

The two Sophomores turned reluctantly in answer to 
his summons. 

“ Come into the house. I wish to see you,” continued 
the Squire. 

Kidder and Perley came slowly up the front steps and 
entered the hall, their pale faces reflecting very plainly 
the consternation they felt. 

“ Hang up your hats, boys,” said the Squire briefly. 
“ I want you to have some dinner with me.” 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 


87 


Raymond from his seat in the parlor could see them 
plainly through the partially open door. He felt his 
own spirits revive at the obvious amazement and trepi- 
dation of his persecutors, who were plainly at a loss to 
know just how to deal with the situation. Their 
embarrassment was almost painful, though the Squire 
was apparently unmindful of it. 

“ I want to introduce you to the grandson of an old 
friend and schoolmate of mine. I am anxious that he 
should become acquainted with some of the worthy 
young men of the college,” he said. “ Come out here, 
Raymond.” 

Raymond came into the hall. 

“ Mr. Benson, allow me to make you acquainted with 
Mr. Kidder,” said the Squire, with ceremonious dignity. 

“ I am pleased to meet you, sir,” said Raymond with 
easy self-possession. 

“ Er — very glad — er — very glad, I’m sure,” stam- 
mered Kidder, sheepishly, taking the proffered hand. 

“ Mr. Perley, Mr. Benson,” announced the Squire. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said Raymond, deprecatingly. 
“ What name did I understand you to say? ” 

“ Perley,” repeated the Squire, solemnly. 

“ Mr. Perley, this is indeed a great pleasure for me,” 
said Raymond, blandly. 

“ Er — don’t mention it — entirely mutual, I assure 
you,” mumbled Perley. 

“ Now that you are acquainted with one another, I 
trust that you may become good friends,” said the 


88 


THE KENTON PINES 


Squire benignantly, “ and now, gentlemen, let us 
adjourn to the dining-room.” 

The crestfallen Sophomores made a feeble attempt to 
plead other engagements, but the Squire would not lis- 
ten to them. 

“ I can’t possibly spare you till after dinner,” he 
declared, briskly. “ I’ve positively counted on the 
pleasure of your company, and other matters will have 
to wait awhile.” 

A moment later the three students were seated with 
the Squire and his wife about the table in the spacious 
old dining-room. 

The two Sophomores were still mystified at the situ- 
ation, and exchanged uneasy glances. 

“ I am sure you will both be happy to know — as 
I presume all the students of the college will be ” — 
announced the Squire suavely, as he helped them to 
the soup, “ that, as a result of Mr. Benson’s inter- 
cession, I have decided to recall the warrant against 
Mr. Mansur.” 

“ Oh — yes — certainly,” faltered Kidder in uncer- 
tain tones. 

“ Very glad, I’m sure,” acquiesced Perley, doubtfully. 

The two Sophomores stole a look at the Squire out 
of the corners of their eyes; but his face was calmly 
serious. 

They were at a loss to explain the situation, and for 
the first time a suspicion flashed across their minds that 
there might, after all, have been more truth than they 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 


89 


suspected in the story they had told Raymond. They 
began to breathe more easily. 

Both the Squire and his wife exerted themselves to 
be entertaining, and presently all the boys found them- 
selves laughing at the droll anecdotes of their host. 

When they took their departure it was with a very 
cordial invitation to come again. 

“ How did the old boy know we were on to that Sat- 
urday night affair ? ” demanded Kidder, as they came 
away from the house. 

“ I hope you don’t think I told him,” replied Ray- 
mond indignantly. 

“ N-no,” said Kidder slowly, “ but it was mighty 
strange though.” 

“ There was nothing strange about it,” insisted 
Raymond. “ I made my confession without involving 
anyone. When the old gentleman looked out of the 
window and saw you fellows waiting to have the laugh 
on me when I got through, he had no great difficulty in 
adding two and two, and finding that they made four. 
The Squire appeared to be fairly well acquainted with 
you,” he concluded, dryly. 

“ Kidder, you and I are a couple of lunkheads ! ” 
exclaimed Perley, with conviction. 

“ We did make a bad break there, for a fact,” admit- 
ted the big Sophomore, ruefully. 

“ Benson,” he added, impulsively, holding out his 
hand, “ we’re quits. If you won’t say anything about 
this matter we won’t.” 


90 


THE KENTON PINES 


Raymond grasped the proffered hand, warmly. 

“ Count me in, too/’ said Perley, following Kidder’s 
example. 

Mansur was at his desk when Raymond entered the 
room a little later. 

“ I was afraid you might have strayed away into the 
surrounding desert and become lost,” he said, quizzi- 
cally. “ I couldn’t think of anything else that would 
keep you from dinner.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t miss my dinner,” returned Raymond. 
“ In fact I enjoyed an unusually good one.” 

Mansur looked puzzled, but forbore to ask ques- 
tions. 

“ I’m very glad to hear it,” he commented. “ I was 
just debating whether or not I should regale you on 
some crackers and sardines I have in my trunk.” 

“ No, you needn’t do that, but you may listen, for a 
few moments, to the confessions of a greenhorn.” 

Mansur drew down the corners of his mouth and 
wrinkled his brows in pretended severity. 

“ Proceed, contrite spirit,” he said with mock solem- 
nity. 

Raymond related fully the events of the forenoon. 

Mansur listened with unaffected delight in the nar- 
rative, frequently punctuating it with his thin, dry 
chuckle. The unexpected summons of Kidder and Per- 
ley to the Squire’s table convulsed him. 

“Oh, but that’s rich!” he ejaculated, with tears of 
mirth in his eyes. 


A CALL ON THE JUDGE 


91 


“ I think the Squire did it just to help me out,” said 
Raymond. 

“ Undoubtedly. It’s just like him. He’s one of the 
kindest-hearted men in the world.” 

“ How did you come to know him ? ” asked Raymond. 

Mansur gave him a swift, inquiring look — then 
laughed good-naturedly. 

“ You see I’m in doubt as to just how much the 
Squire told you,” he said. 

“ Oh, he didn’t say anything about you — except that 
he hadn’t issued any warrant against you.” 

“ Well, then, I first made the Squire’s acquaintance in 
the cooler one evening, through the bars of a cell door. 
He wasn’t the one on the inside, either.” 

Raymond looked his surprise. 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said, hastily. “ I did not 
mean to be inquisitive.” 

“ I know that,” returned Mansur, quickly, “ and I 
shouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t wanted to. I will 
not go into the reasons for my being there in such a 
plight. It will be sufficient to say, perhaps, that they 
were anything but creditable to me. The Squire not 
only released me, but took me home with him. I stayed 
there that night, and ate breakfast with him and his 
wife. Then he took me into his library for one of those 
* heart to heart talks.’ He put things to me in that 
plain, strong, horse-sense way of his. I never had any- 
one talk to me so before. Then and there I got my first 
conception of a serious purpose in life. I went away 


92 THE KENTON PINES 

with new resolutions, and, although I have since fre- 
quently fallen by the wayside, I am satisfied that his 
kindly interest has gone very far to keep me within 
bounds. What he did for me, I know he has done for 
many other Kenton students.” 

“ I’ve no doubt of it,” declared Raymond. 

“ A wonderfully tender and sympathetic heart beats 
beneath that rough exterior,” concluded Mansur, with 
deep feeling. “ He is one of God’s noblemen.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


EVENTS OF THE FRESHMAN WINTER 

The long winter and spring term drew finally to a 
close. It had been the period at Kenton, when, with 
few outside matters to distract attention from their 
studies, the students had put in the hardest and most 
persistent work of the college year. 

Raymond had devoted himself to his studies with 
great earnestness, and as a result was holding a gratify- 
ing rank in his class. He had spent the Thanksgiving 
recess of three days at the college, chiefly from a desire 
to witness the great closing football game between Ken- 
ton and Boles, who were running a neck and neck race 
for the pennant. The weather conditions were favor- 
able and the game was hotly contested. The adherents 
of both teams were present upon the field in unusually 
large numbers, and were aroused to the highest pitch of 
enthusiasm, as the tide of battle surged one way or the 
other. Victory finally rested with Kenton by a score of 
12 to 6 . With it came the championship of the College 
League. 

Raymond had imbibed not a little of the spirit of this 
game, and secretly determined to participate in the 
practice of the eleven another fall. 

93 


94 


THE KENTON PINES 


He had devoted the brief interval between the 
Thanksgiving day game and the reopening of the col- 
lege to the preparation of some assigned themes, and 
to battery practice in the gymnasium with Claude Red- 
ford as a catcher. The relations between Raymond and 
Captain Moody, not very cordial at the start, had grown 
more and more strained. 

Moody had positively refused to have him use, in his 
regular practice with the team, the delivery which he 
felt to be the most effective and which he regarded as 
essential to his success in the box. 

Raymond had risen a little earlier and had gone to 
the gymnasium each morning for an hour’s practice 
with Claude Redford. Reports of this came to the ears 
of Captain Moody, who appeared upon the scene one 
morning and roughly forbade Raymond to do any more 
work of the kind, asserting with considerable vehe- 
mence, and a few oaths, that its only possible result 
would be to spoil him for effective work along the lines 
he had prescribed for him. 

Hot words had followed, with the result that Ray- 
mond found himself excluded from further practice 
with the nine. 

This action on Captain Moody’s part, however, had 
called forth considerable criticism in the college. The 
members of the Freshman class, who were very loyal to 
Raymond, were as bitterly outspoken as they dared to 
be in condemning the Captain’s course, asserting, with 
vehemence, that, in attempting to destroy the individu- 


EVENTS OF THE FRESHMAN WINTER 


95 


ality which had been the strong feature of their class- 
mate’s work in the box, he was deliberately trying to 
give him a “ throw down ” and destroy his effectiveness 
as a pitcher. 

A few of the upper-classmen were also disposed to 
take this view of the matter, but most of them were per- 
suaded that Captain Moody, with his long experience in 
baseball knew what was best, and that, in failing to fol- 
low his directions, Raymond was not only obstinate and 
“ stuffy,” but, undeniably afflicted with a “ swelled 
head.” They felt, moreover, that Captain Moody had 
too much at stake personally to make any move that 
would endanger the success of his team. 

Nothing but the enthusiastic support and encourage- 
ment of his classmates, especially Claude Redford, who 
was always ready to catch him, and the advice of his 
roommate, Charlie Mansur, had kept Raymond steadily 
at his morning practice, in the face of the rebuffs that 
had been given him by Captain Moody and some of his 
satellites on the ball team. Had he given way to the 
impulse that seized him at times he would have thrown 
up the whole business in disgust. He had, however, a 
feeling that his friends might be right in assuring him 
that his chance was sure to come, and was resolutely 
determined that he would then be in a position to make 
Captain Moody crawfish, if he only kept himself in con- 
dition to improve it. 

Raymond did not wonder that Captain Moody pre- 
ferred to handle the slow drops of Charlie Lincoln or 


9 6 


THE KENTON PINES 


the plain out-shoots of Billy Keaton to his own delivery. 
The other two pitchers were classmates of the big 
catcher as well as members of his society delegation. 
Both had played upon the team in previous seasons, and 
were therefore supposed to have the great advantages 
that come from experience. It was not at all surpris- 
ing, therefore, that Captain Moody was disposed to 
favor them above a newcomer, — especially one whose 
methods he did not approve of. Such influences are 
always powerful in college athletics; not every under- 
graduate is broad enough or strong enough to rise above 
them. 

Raymond was right, however, in feeling that where 
the interests of the college were involved, class associa- 
tions, society ties and personal friendships should be 
subordinated to the welfare of the common cause. 

Aside from this feature of his college life the winter 
term had, on the whole, been a pleasant and profitable 
one for Raymond. 

The dancing school had been a diversion from his 
routine duties, which he thoroughly enjoyed, and under 
the tutelage of Prof. Bemis and Miss Amsden he had 
developed into an easy and graceful dancer. In com- 
pany with Mansur he had spent several more pleasant 
evenings at the Amsden home, and on several occasions 
had escorted the fair Janet to lectures and church 
sociables. 

The holiday vacation of two weeks he had passed at 
his father’s home in Bangor. His stay there had been 


EVENTS OF THE FRESHMAN WINTER 


97 


rendered doubly enjoyable to him by the presence of 
Grandfather and Grandmother Benson. The pleasure 
of his visit was also enhanced by his somewhat tardy 
recognition of the fact that his sister Clara was no 
longer the “ little girl ” of old, but was fast blossoming 
into an attractive young lady. He felt a new pride in 
renewing old friendships in her company, and in escort- 
ing her to several very enjoyable sociable affairs. 

The day before he returned to college, he had enjoyed 
a long sleigh-ride in the country with Grandfather Ben- 
son. It was a mild, sunny winter’s day. The roads 
were in good condition, and Raymond took a delight in 
the trip, and in the opportunity it afforded him for giv- 
ing his grandfather, who was always a sympathetic lis- 
tener, a detailed account of his college experiences. 

When he had finally drawn his narrative to a close 
they rode along in silence for a time, and Raymond was 
conscious that something lay on his grandfather’s mind. 

Presently Mr. Benson spoke. 

“ Has your father ever said anything to you of his 
business affairs ? ” he asked. 

Raymond opened his eyes wide. 

“ Why, no,” he answered. 

“ I think it might have been wise if he had,” contin- 
ued Grandfather Benson slowly. “ You are old enough 
now to think somewhat of such things.” 

“ There is nothing the matter ; nothing wrong is 
there ? ” cried Raymond anxiously. 

“ No, not exactly, but your father is carrying a very 


9 8 


THE KENTON PINES 


heavy burden of debt, and while we hope and believe 
that it will result ultimately to his advantage, it is 
important, at least for the present, that we all practice 
prudence and economy.” 

Raymond looked at him a little reproachfully. 

“ I hope you don’t think me extravagant, Grand- 
father,” he asked anxiously. 

“ No, indeed,” was the prompt response. “ For a 
boy who has had about everything he ever wanted, you 
have made a remarkably good record. I hope you 
won’t think that I speak of this matter in any spirit of 
censure.” 

“ I didn’t know father had any debts,” said Raymond 
in vague wonderment. 

“ They were contracted last summer. He had an 
opportunity to purchase a large tract of timber land at 
that time on very favorable terms. In order to take it 
he was obliged to borrow heavily. He secured the 
money for the purchase from Mr. Shadheimer.” 

“ That old skinflint ! ” exclaimed Raymond, resent- 
fully. “ Why did he have any dealings with him ? ” 

“ Tut, tut, my boy,” said Grandfather Benson, 
reprovingly. “ Don’t go out of your way to speak 
disrespectfully of any man. It doesn’t sound well.” 

“ But you know Shadheimer’s reputation, Grand- 
father,” insisted Raymond. “ He hasn’t any more soul 
than a buffalo bug. Everyone knows that who has ever 
heard of him.” 

Grandfather Benson looked troubled. 


EVENTS OF THE FRESHMAN WINTER 


99 


“ I know he has the reputation of being a sharp, close 
business man,” he said slowly; “ but he was kind 
enough to come to your father’s assistance, when the 
banks were unable, owing to the money stringency, to 
do anything for him, and gave him the desired loan on 
very favorable terms.” 

“ What security was given for the loan ? ” 

“ A mortgage on the land itself, and on your father’s 
real estate. There need be no fear, however, I think as 
to the outcome. The first payment of twelve thousand 
dollars will not be due until next July. Your father had 
a chance to permit the land on very favorable terms, 
which I advised him to accept; but he preferred to cut 
and market his own logs, believing that, with the favor- 
able outlook in the lumber market, he could make more 
money in this way than he could by selling others the 
right to cut. This has called for a large additional out- 
lay for equipment, wages and supplies, the money for 
which he has raised at the Bolton banks on notes 
endorsed by me.” 

“ What if he should fail ? ” 

“ Then we should lose everything,” replied Mr. Ben- 
son, soberly. 

“ I think it was wrong for him to let you do that,” 
cried Raymond impulsively. “ If he was willing to 
take those risks himself he certainly should not have 
involved you.” 

“ Easy, easy, my boy,” remonstrated Mr. Benson. 
“ You must remember that your father is a pretty clear- 


100 


THE KENTON PINES 


headed business man. He hasn’t often made mistakes. 
Everything is looking very favorable for him at pres- 
ent. The lumber market was short at the beginning of 
the winter. The heavy winter freshet which we had in 
December swept a large part of the available logs on the 
Penobscot and Kennebec out to sea. Every indication 
points to a high price for logs next spring. Your father 
is a shrewd buyer, and has some very capable men in 
charge of his crews. It looks as if he should clear at 
least twenty thousand dollars on his winter’s work 
above his operating expenses. If he does that he will 
be able to meet his payment to Mr. Shadheimer and 
have a handsome profit.” 

“ I hope everything will come out all right.” 

“ So do I,” replied Grandfather Benson, heartily. 
“ Meanwhile I hope you will be as careful of your 
expenses as possible. Your father is a busy man and 
has lots of cares ; but you know, my boy, that he would 
make almost any sacrifice for you.” 

“ I know it,” replied Raymond quickly, “ and I shall 
do my best, Grandfather, to make my part of his bur- 
den as light as possible.” 

“ I felt sure that you would,” commented his grand- 
father approvingly. 

Raymond thought with a pang that night as they sat 
at supper, that his father looked older and more care- 
worn than he had ever seen him before. There was an 
anxious look, too, in the face of his mother which he 
had not noticed before. “ How willingly,” he reflected, 


EVENTS OF THE FRESHMAN WINTER 


IOI 


“both of them had concealed their own anxieties in 
order that no cloud should mar the pleasure of his home 
coming.” For the first time he began to look forward 
to the time when he should be able to be of practical 
assistance to them and to share their burdens. He had 
returned to college the next day with a determination 
to assist his father by a strict watch of his expenditures. 

The long winter wore slowly away without any 
unusual experiences. Raymond was rapidly making 
warm friendships among the members of his class, and 
to some extent among the upper-classmen, especially in 
his own fraternity, in whose affairs he took an active 
and earnest interest. 

He also joined the college debating society, preparing 
himself, with painstaking thoroughness, for the discus- 
sion of the various questions that came up for considera- 
tion at its meetings. His Krampton training stood him 
in good stead here, and he was soon recognized as one 
of the best speakers in college. 

Near the close of the term he received a cordial invi- 
tation from Henry Homer, the managing editor of the 
“ Kenton Clarion,” to contribute something to its col- 
umns. He mentioned this fact incidentally to Man- 
sur, who urged him very strongly to comply with the 
request. 

A few nights later as they were sitting before the 
open coal grate in their room, Raymond handed Man- 
sur a sheet of manuscript. “ Read that over and see if 
you think it will do,” he said. 


102 


THE KENTON PINES 


Mansur took it and read it critically. 

“ Do,” he cried, “ of course it will. My boy, you’re 
a poet. I’ve suspected as much for some time, and now 
I’m sure of it.” 

“ Oh, be serious,” laughed Raymond, “ and give me 
your honest opinion. I wasn’t fishing . for a compli- 
ment.” 

“ I am entirely sincere,” said Mansur. “ Just hear 
how well this sounds,” and taking up the paper he read 
aloud : 


“ The Sophomore " 

‘ O’er the campus wide he roams, 
Monument of knowledge ! 

Marked by towering hat he wears, 
The gigantic oaths he swears, 

And his buccaneering airs, 

Despot of the college! 


Freshmen bear,, his withering chaff 
With dejection. 

At his barbarous jokes they laugh, 
Else, around, his fiendish wrath 
Brings, like old Clearchus’ staff, 
Quick subjection. 


“ Freshman verdancy he hails 
With derision ; 

And, absolved from studious cares, 

Apes the Junior’s cultured airs, 

Smooths his scattering moustache hairs 
With precision. 


EVENTS OF THE FRESHMAN WINTER 


IO3 


Freshmen hear his learned words 
With sedateness, 

And with goal full in their sight, 
Labor upward through the night 
Toward the vast Olympic height 
Of his greatness.” 


“You would hardly expect a Senior to take your 
point of view/’ he said. “ To us a Sophomore is merely 
a last year’s Freshman; but from your standpoint the 
poem is all right. In fact I detect unmistakable symp- 
toms of the divine afflatus. Hand it in by all means. I 
know Homer will be glad to get it.” 

Raymond put the poem into an envelope and, with 
some misgivings, passed it to Homer that evening when 
he met him at supper. 

It appeared very promptly in the next issue of the 
“ Clarion.” This was the first time that Raymond had 
ever seen himself in print, and he felt a secret gratifica- 
tion at the success attending his initial effort. He was 
encouraged by it to further endeavors in the same direc- 
tion, and was soon recognized in the college literary 
circle as one of the “ Clarion’s ” frequent and valued 
contributors. 


CHAPTER IX 


CAPTAIN MOODY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED 

At the beginning of the two weeks vacation in April 
the ball team went South on its annual practice trip, the 
grounds at Kenton not being in condition to play upon. 
Raymond was left behind. In fact Charlie Longley, 
who was assigned to second base, was the only Fresh- 
man carried along, although there was a very strong 
feeling in college that several other members of the 
class were stronger players than some who had been 
given places upon the team. 

Raymond did not go home for the vacation. Claude 
Redford, whose home was in Albany, New York, also 
remained at the college, and he and Raymond reigned 
supreme in the big dormitory where they roomed. 
Naturally enough they improved the opportunity to get 
in some active battery practice at the gymnasium with 
no one to criticise them. 

They also enjoyed two very pleasant evenings of 
whist at the Amsden’s house where the young ladies 
made them cordially welcome. 

“ I appreciate my limitations,” said Claude, gloomily, 
as they were returning to their room one afternoon after 
104 


CAPTAIN MOODY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED 105 


an hour’s work in the “ gym.” “ I’m not cut out for a 
catcher, and wouldn’t make a really good one if I were 
to practice a thousand years.” 

“ I can’t agree with you,” protested Raymond. “ You 
are better, to-day, than Captain Moody.” 

“ That’s not saying much,” responded Claude, rue- 
fully. “ Moody can throw fairly well — and that’s 
about all. My place is in the out-field, and I should have 
liked mighty well to have made one of those positions. 
I suppose it was too much, perhaps, to expect in Fresh- 
man year, but all the same it rankles just a little.” 

“ It’s a burning shame ! ” cried Raymond with hot 
indignation. “ The idea of keeping you off the team 
and giving places to ice-wagons like Kent and Tobey ! ” 

“ It isn’t half as bad as keeping you off,” protested 
Claude warmly. 

“ Well, there’s one satisfaction for us, anyway,” said 
Raymond. “ Kent and Tobey will be gone next year.” 

“ Yes, and so will Ted Moody and his two pet pitch- 
ers. Oh, there are brighter days ahead.” 

“ Come in,” said Raymond, as they reached his room. 
“ I’ve something to show you.” 

When Claude had stretched himself in the big arm- 
chair, Raymond took two letters from his desk and 
handed them to him. “ See how those strike you,” he 
said. “ You will find a copy of my answer pinned to 
the first one.” 

Claude read as follows: 


106 THE KENTON PINES 

“ Bayburg Athletic Club. 

“April 9th, 18 — 

“ Mr. Raymond Benson, 

“ Kenton College. 

“Dear Sir : 

“ You have probably noticed that our ball team is to 
play an exhibition game on Fast Day, the 27th inst., 
with the Rochester team of the Eastern League. Lem 
Hallis, our regular pitcher, is sick, and will not be able 
to play. You have been very strongly recommended 
to me by Silas Akers, who formerly played third base 
on the team with you at Krampton. From what he 
says I feel sure that you are just the man we want. I 
am authorized to pay you $15.00 and expenses if you 
will pitch the game for us. Billy Murphy will catch 
for us. 

“ Hoping for a favorable reply, I am, 

“ Sincerely yours, 

“David S. Hawley, 

“ Captain B. A. C ” 


“Kenton College, April 10th, 18 — 

“ David S. Hawley, 

“ Captain B. A. C., 

“ Bayburg, Maine. 

“ Dear Sir : 

“ Your favor of the 9th inst. is at hand. I shall be 
very glad to pitch the Fast Day game for you on the 


CAPTAIN MOODY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED 107 

terms you offer. Do you want a good out-fielder? 
Can bring you a first-class man if you desire. 

“ Yours truly, 

“ Raymond Benson/* 

“ Bayburg Athletic Club, April nth, 18 — 

“ Raymond Benson, 

“ Kenton College. 

“ Dear Sir : 

“ Yours at hand. Glad to know we can depend on 
you. Bring along the out-fielder you mention, and we 
will pay him $10.00 and expenses. 

“ Sincerely yours, 

" David S. Hawley. Captain B. A. C.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Claude leaping from his chair, 
with kindling eyes, and giving Raymond a resounding 
whack on the back that made him wince. “ Isn’t this 
great.” \ 

Raymond rubbed himself a little woefully. 

“ Save the pieces, old man,” he said with an indulgent 
smile at his friend’s exuberance. “ It suits you, does 
it?” 

“ Suits me ! ” echoed Claude. “ Why, old man, this 
is a cinch. Just think of pitching to a crack-a-jack like 
Murphy. You are certainly in luck, and I shall miss 
my guess if you don’t make Moody look like a last 
year’s banana. Who is your out-fielder?” 

“ You.” 


io8 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Me?” 

“ Sure ! Who else did you suppose it could be ? ” 

“ Why, I thought it was some star man you had on 
the string. Really, old man, do you honestly think I’m 
fast enough for that company? ” 

“ I haven’t a doubt of it.” 

“ I should like to play there,” continued Claude a lit- 
tle wistfully, “ that is, if I thought I could do you 
credit.” 

“ I’ll take the chance,” replied Raymond promptly. 

“ And I’ll do my best.” 

“ I don’t doubt it,” laughed Raymond. “ If I had 
doubted it, I should not have recommended you.” 

The Southern trip of the Kenton ball team proved a 
bitter disappointment to its friends. Only one game 
was won, on the entire circuit, and that by a close score 
from a team which was supposed to be hopelessly out- 
classed. The usual excuses were conjured up — bad 
luck, poor physical condition, lame arms, insufficient 
out-of-door preliminary practice — everything, in short, 
that could serve as balm for the dissatisfaction and 
chagrin of the student body at the humiliating showing. 
By the time the team reached home at the close of the 
first summer term, college sentiment, always more or 
less vacillating in matters of sport, had commenced to 
turn in Raymond’s favor, and the opinion was freely 
expressed, that he had not been given “ a fair show.” 

This feeling was quieted somewhat by Captain 
Moody’s explanation that the usual handicaps of the 


CAPTAIN MOODY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED IO9 


early spring practice had been augmented by unfor- 
tunate accidents, that he had put several of his best men 
out of the games. He further declared that his players 
had gone up against unusually strong teams on the trip, 
and that with a week or two of home practice the team 
would surely round into condition to give a good 
account of itself in the championship games. 

Notwithstanding the apparent disposition of the stu- 
dents to accept this view of the situation and await 
development, Captain Moody was by no means insen- 
sible to the growing sentiment in favor of Benson. 
While it annoyed, it also worried him. He did not 
feel that it would be wholly wise to ignore it. 

The playing season was to be opened on the home 
grounds, in an exhibition game with the Case team, 
which was generally believed to be Kenton’s most for- 
midable rival in the league race. While, therefore, the 
Fast Day game did not count in the championship series, 
it was felt to be specially important in affording the 
students an opportunity to judge the relative strength of 
the two teams. 

Fast Day proved to be all that was hoped for. The 
sun shone brightly, and the air was mild and balmy. 

Raymond and Claude Redford, travelling bags in 
hand, were hurrying across the campus to catch the 
eleven o’clock train into Bayburg, when Captain Moody 
thrust his head out of the window and hailed them. 

“ Hold on a minute, fellows,” he shouted. 

They stopped and waited for the big captain, who 


no 


THE KENTON PINES 


joined them a moment later, somewhat out of breath 
with his flying descent of the dormitory stairs. 

“ Where are you going? ” he demanded. 

“ To Bayburg,” answered Raymond briefly. 

Captain Moody looked at him with sudden suspicion. 

“ Have any of the fellows told you? ” he asked. 

“ Told us what? ” 

“ That I was intending to play you and Redford 
against the Case team to-day.” 

“ No/’ said Raymond. “ This is the first intimation 
I’ve had of it.” 

“ You may say the same for me,” added Claude. 

“ Well, that’s what I’m going to do,” continued the 
big captain. “ So you may come up to my room and 
get your uniforms.” 

“ I’m much obliged for your kindness,” said Ray- 
mond dryly, “ but it comes too late. Redford and I 
have an engagement in Bayburg to-day. I certainly 
can’t give it up, and I don’t believe he will.” 

“ Certainly not,” assented Claude with quiet empha- 
sis. 

Captain Moody grew very red in the face. 

“ And what, may I ask is this important engagement 
that prevents two Freshmen from improving a chance 
to wear their college uniform and uphold their college 
interests ? ” he inquired with an ill-concealed sneer. 

“ Certainly,” responded Raymond coldly. “ We 
agreed some days ago to play with the Bayburg Ath- 
letic team to-day.” 


CAPTAIN MOODY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED III 


Captain Moody was clearly astonished and discon- 
certed by this announcement. 

“ Against the Rochesters ? ” he inquired, incredu- 
lously. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you are going to — ” 

“ Pitch,” finished Raymond, briefly. 

“ And Redford?” 

“ Play center field,” was Claude’s laconic response. 

“Well, I’ll be blowed!” ejaculated Moody, looking 
from one to the other in blank amazement. It was 
evident that he was not a little disturbed by what had 
been told him. 

“ So this is the way you go back on your college, is 
it?” he added scornfully. “You are beginning early 
to play the traitor.” 

“ There’s no traitor about it,” cried Raymond, wrath- 
fully. “ The game with Case was arranged six weeks 
ago. If you’d wanted us to play in it you needn’t have 
waited until three hours before it is to be played before 
telling us of it — especially since you have seen fit to 
exclude us both from practice with the baseball squad. 
So far as Redford and I are concerned, this is positively 
our first intimation that you were at all likely to desire 
our services.” 

“ A man with the right spirit will always hold him- 
self in readiness to serve his college,” snapped Moody. 
“If you fellows hadn’t developed the big head so early 
in your course, the call might have come sooner.” 


1 12 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ We are not disposed to hold you responsible for the 
size of our heads/’ coolly replied Claude. “You cer- 
tainly have done nothing to develop them.” 

“ Not on your life,” sneered the captain. “ There 
wasn’t any need of it. Well I certainly congratulate 
the Bayburg Athletic team on its remarkable accession 
of strength,” and turning abruptly on his heel, Captain 
Moody left Raymond and Claude to continue on their 
way to the depot, while he strode angrily back to his 
room. 

“Well, how did the pony battery take the news?” 
asked Charlie Lincoln whom he met in the hallway. 

“ Take it? ” echoed Moody, angrily. “ What do you 
suppose those two young jackanapes have gone and 
done?” 

“ I haven’t the slightest idea,” returned Lincoln, won- 
deringly. 

“ They’ve engaged to play with the Bayburg Athletic 
team against Rochester, this afternoon.” 

Lincoln gave a whistle of dismay. 

“ That’s too bad ! ” he sighed. 

“ It’s an outrageous shame ! ” continued Moody. “ I 
intended to explode them both to-day — and get them 
off our hands for the rest of the season.” 

“ You should have put them up against the Harvards 
week before last,” said Lincoln, with a lively recol- 
lection of his own experience on that occasion. 

“ Yes, that’s just where I made a mistake,” assented 
Moody. “ It would have saved me a lot of back- 


CAPTAIN MOODY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED II3 

biting from the college kickers if I had,” he added, 
bitterly. 

“ I guess the Rochesters will do the trick for Benson,” 
said Lincoln, hopefully. “ I’m not so sure, though, 
about Redford. He has the reputation of being a pretty 
fast out-fielder.” 

“ That’s where he will play, to-day, I suppose,” re- 
turned Moody. “ Of course Murphy will catch. I’ve 
intended all along to give Redford a chance in our out- 
field, as soon as I could show the college that he’s no 
catcher. That’s one of the most irritating things about 
this whole affair.” 

“ I guess it’ll come out all right in the wash,” said 
Lincoln, hopefully. 

“ I’m not so sure of it, Charlie,” responded Moody, 
gloomily. “ You see everyone knows that the Roches- 
ters hopelessly outclass the Bayburgs, and so they won’t 
be looking for much to-day. Benson is liable to show 
to far better advantage than he would here where the 
fellows will expect us to win.” 

“ You should have nailed him sooner.” 

“ Of course I should,” admitted Moody, testily. 
“ Curse it all ! I didn’t look for anything like this. 
It’s just my blamed luck,” he added, as he slammed his 
door behind him. 

Events fully justified the captain’s apprehensions. 
The Case team batted Lincoln hard and often, winning 
by a score of 8 to 4, to the huge disgust of the Kenton 
students who had confidently expected a different result. 


THE KENTON PINES 


1 14 

On the other hand, Raymond made an unexpectedly 
strong showing against the heavy-hitting Rochesters, 
arousing the enthusiasm of the spectators to a high 
pitch by holding them down to ten hits, a result that was 
largely due to the brilliant work of Claude Redford in 
center-field. While the professionals finally succeeded 
in winning out by a score of 10 to 5 the showing of the 
Athletic team was so much stronger than had been 
looked for, that the result had almost the force of a vic- 
tory for it. The following morning the Bayburg 
papers spoke in terms of highest praise of the work 
done by Benson and Redford, predicting a brilliant 
future in baseball for each of them, and completing the 
measure of Captain Moody’s discomfiture by heartily 
congratulating Kenton College on having two such 
promising Freshman players. 


CHAPTER X 


RAYMOND HAS A TRIAL IN THE PITCHER^ BOX 

The baseball standing of Raymond and Claude rose 
appreciably in the college estimation as a result of 
their good work with the Bayburg Athletic Club, and 
the favorable comments of the Bayburg papers. This 
change of undergraduate opinion was accompanied, 
however, with a distinct feeling of resentment. Cap- 
tain Moody caused the report to be industriously cir- 
culated that Benson and Redford had refused to play 
with the ’ Varsity, in order to help out the Bayburg 
Athletic team. He carefully concealed the late hour 
at which he had called for their services, leaving the 
college to infer that they had deliberately made their 
engagement with Bayburg in the full knowledge that 
their services would be desired in the game with Case. 
At the same time Captain Moody, appreciating the 
fact that, sooner or later, the truth must come out, 
hastened to give Redford a place on the ’ Varsity at 
center-field. In this way he hoped to placate college 
sentiment and still further punish Raymond, He was 
also led to this action partly by the fact that the Kenton 
out-field had shown up lamentably weak in the practice 
games, and partly from his own desire to strengthen 
ns 


Il6 THE KENTON PINES 

his team, where it would not conflict with his own 
personal interests. 

With this change the team entered upon the cham- 
pionship series. The opening game of the league series 
was with the weak team of the Osarge University. 

Lincoln, who was tried in the box by Captain Moody, 
did his first really effective pitching of the season. The 
Osarge batsmen could do little with his delivery and 
the result was a victory for the Kenton players, the 
score standing 7 to 6 in their favor. Returning home 
the team played a game with Boles, again winning by 
a score of 7 to 6, Keaton being in fine form, and pitch- 
ing one of his best games. 

The next game was on the Boles grounds. Both 
of the Kenton pitchers were used but without avail, 
Boles winning easily by a score of 10 to 2. College 
confidence in the team was restored a few days later 
by a second victory over Osarge, this time on the 
Kenton grounds. Charlie Lincoln, who opened up the 
game, had been speedily batted out of the box, but 
Keaton, who succeeded him, had been able to hold down 
the opposing batsmen, and land his team a winner. 

The brilliant work of Claude Redford had played 
an important part in all the victories won, and he was 
generally recognized as one of the strongest out-fielders 
in the league. 

Captain Moody’s predictions regarding his team had 
apparently come true. At the same time there was a 
strong feeling among the students in favor of giving 


RAYMOND HAS A TRIAL IN THE PITCHER'S BOX 

Raymond a chance to show what he could do — 
especially as it was evident that Lincoln was very far 
from being in good form, and it was felt that it would 
be hazardous to put too much work on Keaton. 

The fifth game of the league series was played on 
the Case grounds. For the first time in the season, 
Raymond was permitted to accompany the team on 
this trip. 

The Kenton boys reached Westerly, the beautiful 
little city in which this rival college was located, and 
were driven at once to the “ Beechwood,” its leading 
hotel. This was a large, roomy building facing upon 
a little triangular park which had its apex in the junc- 
tion of two streets. The wide piazza of this hotel, 
which extended across its entire front, and for a short 
distance on either side commanded an excellent view 
of the principal business street and several elm-lined 
residential ones of exceptional beauty and charm. 

Westerly was certainly a very attractive place, and 
Raymond was not surprised that its citizens were 
known, far and near, for their strong local pride and 
devotion to home interests. 

The college was located upon the river bank a short 
distance from the hotel, and after dinner, Raymond, 
in company with Claude Redford, Charlie Longley, and 
several other members of the Kenton team, visited its 
campus for a look at its buildings and ball ground. 
The latter was situated at one end of and adjoining 
the campus. It was smooth and level. The soil was 


Il8 THE KENTON PINES 

somewhat flinty, but had been faithfully cared for. 
Two grandstands afforded ample accommodations for 
spectators. After completing their tour of inspection, 
the Kenton boys returned to the hotel and dressed for 
the game, which was called at three o’clock. 

When Captain Moody and his players reached the 
grounds a large crowd had already assembled, and the 
Case team was engaged in practice. 

“ What do you think of them ? ” asked Charlie Long- 
ley of Raymond, after they had watched the work of 
the opposing team for a few moments. 

“ If they can hit as well as they field, we shall have 
no procession with them,” was the reply. 

“ Come out and limber up a little, Benson,” called 
Captain Moody from the side lines where he had been 
catching Charlie Lincoln in practice. “ I’m going to 
let you open up the game.” 

The big catcher appeared to be in exceptional good 
humor. 

“ That will do. I see you have your speed with 
you, to-day,” he said, after Raymond had pitched to 
him a few minutes. “ Now let me give you a word 
of advice, Benson,” he continued. “ Don’t make the 
mistake of trying to work your high balls on these 
men. That’s the stronghold of their pitcher. They 
are practising against that sort of thing the whole 
season here, and that style of delivery will be a loser 
for you. Use a plain out and drop, with an occasional 
straight ball and change of pace. Don’t be afraid to 


RAYMOND HAS A TRIAL IN THE PITCHER’S BOX 1 19 

send them straight over, in a pinch, and depend on 
your fielders. Work the corners of the plate carefully, 
and you will be all right.” 

“ Very well,” assented Raymond, with some hesi- 
tation. “ You’ve played against these fellows before, 
and ought to know what’s best. I should feel a good 
deal more confident myself if I could mix in an under- 
hand rise, and a high overhand in-shoot occasionally. 
I have better control of them than anything else, I 
think, and they have always been my most effective 
balls.” 

“ Do as I tell you,” snapped the captain, shortly, 
“ and I’ll be responsible for results.” 

Raymond was not pleased with the situation, but, 
choking down his resentment, he made no reply. A 
moment later the game was called and he took his place 
in the box. 

Captain Smithers, the big Case pitcher, who had the 
reputation of being a hard hitter, was the first batter up. 

“ He stands too close to the plate,” was Raymond’s 
mental comment, as he looked him over with critical 
coolness. “ Guess I’ll work him with a high in.” 

A moment later the Case captain struck fiercely at 
a ball which seemed to dodge in across his shoulder 
and elude the bat. 

“ Don’t get anxious, old man ! ” “ Play ball ! ” 
“ Make him put ’em over ! ” were some of the sage 
admonitions that came from the Case coachers and 
sympathizers. 


120 


THE KENTON PINES 


The next two balls went wide. 

“ You’ve got him going ! ” “ Play ball ! ” was the 
comment from the home crowd. 

The next ball was an underhand rise that came 
squarely over the plate. 

“ Strike two,” said the umpire. 

“ Spoil the good ones ! ” “ Hit ’em on the seam, old 
man ! ” admonished the critics in the grandstand. 

Captain Moody walked slowly into the in-field, as he 
adjusted his protector, notwithstanding the vociferous 
jeers, witticisms, and impatient shouts of “ play ball ” 
from the Case men, to whom these conferences of the 
opposing battery were always irritating. 

“ I thought I told you not to throw those high ins 
and rises,” he snapped. 

Raymond flashed an indignant look upon him. 

“ I supposed you meant when you were under the 
bat,” said he. “ I notice he isn’t hitting those curves 
to any great extent,” he returned, significantly, but 
the remark was lost on Captain Moody. 

“ I’m going under the bat now,” he returned gruffly, 
“ and I want you to bear in mind what I’ve told you. 
Follow my signals.” 

The next ball pitched was an out drop which went 
wide of the plate. 

A cheer went up from the Case men. 

Captain Moody signaled for a plain ' out curve. 
Raymond shook his head. The big catcher shot him 
an angry glance through his mask, and repeated the 


RAYMOND HAS A TRIAL IN THE PITCHER’S BOX 12 1 


signal. This time Raymond responded to it. The 
curve, however, broke wide of the plate, and, amid 
the deafening cheers of his friends, the Case captain 
trotted to first base. 

As the next batter was making his way to the plate, 
Raymond moved forward to meet Captain Moody, 
who was again coming into the diamond. 

The big captain was in a surly mood. 

“ Be careful of those bouquets,” he growled. 
“ They’re expensive. A man scores about eight times 
out of ten on a gift. Besides it takes the heart out 
of the whole team.” 

“ What did you insist on an out-shoot for after 
I shook my head ? ” complained Raymond, bitterly. 
“ Why didn’t you let me give him the underhand rise 
I wanted to ? ” 

“ Because it’s a mighty poor ball to throw for a 
third strike,” was the gruff response. “ Start your 
outs so they’ll break over the plate, or use drops. Any 
man who makes a pretense of pitching should be able 
to control his drop ball.” 

The captain started to resume his position, then 
turned abruptly, and said, in a low voice: 

“ That big fellow at the bat is Ben Larcom, their 
center fielder. He can kill speed. Tease him with a 
slow drop.” 

Raymond followed instructions; but the batsman 
was quick to detect the character of the ball, and also 
that it was coming close. He did not attempt to strike 


122 


THE KENTON PINES 


it, but moving quickly up allowed it to hit him on the 
side of the leg. 

“ Take your base,” said the umpire, and Larcom 
limped down to first, where he made a dramatic pre- 
tense of rubbing his injured limb. 

The Case men were jubilant. “ Got him on the 
toboggan ! ” “ He’s a good thing, push him along ! ” 
they shouted. 

Raymond moved forward from his box. 

“ I protest against that decision,” he said sharply. 
“ That fellow deliberately blocked the ball.” 

“ I didn’t see anything of the kind,” said the umpire. 
“ Did you, Moody? ” 

“ No,” replied the captain frankly, “ I can’t honestly 
say that I did. Larcom stood pretty close and may 
have been out of position ; but I was so busy watching 
the ball that I didn’t notice.” 

“ Well, there was no question about his being hit,” 
asserted the umpire with decision, “ and I don’t think 
any of the players would purposely block your delivery 
with their shins, Benson. Play ball.” 

The situation was disquieting to Raymond. He fully 
realized that the limitation which Captain Moody had 
imposed upon his delivery would prove a serious if not 
a fatal handicap. He was on trial before the whole 
league, and was not even permitted to play his game. 
He felt, too, that a prompt and vigorous protest from 
Captain Moody would have prevented Larcom from 
getting his base. 


RAYMOND HAS A TRIAL IN THE PITCHER^S BOX 1 23 

The next batter up was Frank Leatherby, the wiry 
little Case short-stop. He sent a hot grounder to the 
usually reliable Charlie Longley at second base, who 
fumbled it long enough to let the runner reach first, 
filling the bases. Then followed a high fly by Third 
Baseman Cosgrove to deep left field which Tobey 
ignominiously muffed, letting in two scores. 

Right Fielder Perkins of the Case team followed 
with an easy grounder to Raymond; but First Base- 
man Penton muffed the throw and the runner was 
safe. Such an error by a player usually so reliable 
was very disheartening. 

Immediately following this unfortunate error came 
the first base hit of the game — a clean, hard drive 
between the center and left fields by the Case catcher, 
which netted two bases for the runner, and brought 
in three scores. 

A moment later Raymond forced a burst of applause 
from even the Case adherents by taking a hot liner 
from Center Fielder Patch en’s bat and fielding it 
swiftly to Charlie Longley at second base, before the 
runner, who was playing well off, could return, thus 
completing a brilliant double play. 

It was the first time the Kenton contingent had 
found a chance to cheer, and they improved it loyally, 
the Case people generously joining them. It was 
evident that the friends of the home team were beyond 
the worrying point so far as the outcome of the game 
was concerned. The tension was relaxed, and their 


124 


THE KENTON PINES 


comments were characterized alike by their broad spirit 
of sportsmanship and their prevailing good nature. 
There is nothing that so soothes the spirit of partisan- 
ship in a college contest as a well-grounded sense of 
security. 

The next player up for Case reached first base on a 
fumble by Short-Stop Bither, and stole second on the 
first ball pitched to the batsman who followed him, 
Captain Moody throwing low in the attempt to catch 
him. A passed ball advanced him to third base. 

A high foul fly was then knocked just back of the 
line between the home plate and first base. Both Ray- 
mond and Moody ran for it. 

“ Fll take it ! ” shouted Raymond. 

“ Look out ! Look out ! ” roared the captain. “ I’ve 
got it.” 

The big catcher balanced himself under the ball for 
a moment as it came twisting down, and an instant 
later it bounced from his mitt and fell to the ground. 

Raymond forebore to comment. 

The derisive hoots of the crowd, and his own very 
evident chagrin, were sufficient humiliation for Moody. 

“ The sun was right in my eyes,” he muttered in 
explanation as he resumed his place behind the bat. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE CASE MEN CELEBRATE 

The error of Captain Moody proved a costly one for 
the Kenton team, the batter finally reaching his base 
on balls. A moment later he threw sharply to First 
Baseman Penton to catch the runner who was playing 
some distance off first base. The moment the ball left 
the catcher’s hand, the two Case players on the bases 
started for third and home on a double steal. The 
play seemed to rattle Penton, who threw wildly over 
Second Baseman Longley’s head, enabling both runners 
to score. Raymond ended the agony by striking out 
Captain Smithers when he came to the bat for the 
second time. 

With the score 7 to o in favor of Case the outlook 
for Kenton was decidedly gloomy. 

“ Well, I must say that you’ve made a muss of it,” 
growled Moody to Raymond as they walked off the 
field. 

“ I’ve made a muss of it ! ” exclaimed Raymond, 
bitterly. “ Well, that’s a nice way for you to put it, 
after handicapping me by positively forbidding me to 
pitch my game, to say nothing of our error column.” 

“ You’d have been all right if you’d had any con- 
125 


126 


THE KENTON PINES 


trol,” was the grouty response. “ You rattled the boys 
to death by opening up with a base on balls and plug- 
ging a batsman.” 

Raymond’s temper was fast getting the better of him. 

“ I wouldn’t have given the base on balls,” he said 
hotly, “ if you hadn’t insisted on that out-curve against 
my protest — and I didn’t hit Larcom. It was a 
deliberate block of that slow drop you called for. If 
he had attempted a body block of the ball I intended 
to have thrown him, if you’d let me alone, he would 
have been in the hospital now.” 

“ Yes, yes,” sneered Moody. “ You’ve thrown the 
game, now squeal and explain. That’s what all quit- 
ters do!” 

“ I don’t think there is any special need to explain,” 
returned Raymond, warmly. “ Almost everyone could 
see those five rotten errors.” 

“ Five,” echoed Captain Moody. “ I thought there 
were six. Oh, I see! ” he sneered. “ You’re counting 
yourself out. How about the man you hit ? ” 

“ You know very well I didn’t hit him,” retorted 
Raymond. “ He purposely blocked the ball. If you 
had spoken up promptly and shown a little sand the 
umpire would never have allowed him to get away 
with it.” 

“ Yes, no doubt I could square your blunders by 
bulldozing the umpire,” said the big catcher, sarcas- 
tically. “ You’ve got a little speed to-day, and that’s 


THE CASE MEN CELEBRATE 


127 


“ Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” said Raymond, 
angrily. “ I’ll never pitch another ball for Kenton 
until I can do it in my own way.” 

“ You needn’t worry,” said Captain Moody, coldly. 
“ You’ll probably never have another chance. I’m 
going to pitch Keaton in the next inning.” 

“ That’s right,” was Raymond’s caustic rejoinder. 
“ You’ve thrown me down, and now I suppose you 
are satisfied.” 

Captain Moody made no reply. 

The other players were gathering around the bench, 
and he did not care to discuss his differences in their 
presence. It suited his purposes to conceal, so far as 
possible, this phase of the situation. 

Raymond was angry and silent. His name came at 
the foot of the batting list, and before the inning was 
out, he quietly left the field and made his way back to 
the hotel. He felt humiliated. His blood boiled at 
the manner in which Captain Moody had imposed upon 
him. At that moment he felt that he could almost 
forego the pleasant acquaintances he had formed at 
Kenton and find a genuine satisfaction in joining Ned 
Grover at Woodville. The thought of the devoted 
loyalty that had been shown him by his classmates led 
him almost immediately to dismiss the thought as one 
unworthy to be entertained. There was also a solace 
in the reflection that Captain Moody’s career at Kenton 
would soon be closed. 

He went to his room in the hotel and removed his 


128 


THE KENTON PINES 


uniform. A little later he started out alone for a 
tramp about the city of Westerly. When he returned 
it was nearly seven o’clock, and the Kenton boys, 
having changed their clothes, and eaten their suppers, 
were grouped in comfortable rocking-chairs on the 
big hotel piazza, enjoying the delights of the beautiful 
summer evening and eagerly discussing the details of 
the game. As he came through the doorway into the 
big office Raymond was greeted cordially by Charlie 
Longley, who told him that the game had gone to 
Case by a score of 12 to 6 . 

“ What was the row between you and Moody ? ” he 
asked. 

“ Did the fellows see that ? ” inquired Raymond. 

“ Oh, a blind man could see that you were at odds,” 
said Longley. “ What did he do — shut you off on 
your speed ? ” 

“ No, he forbade me using a high in or an under- 
hand rise.” 

“ That’s about what some of us figured out,” was 
Longley ’s comment. “ It’s about his size.” 

“ I’ll tell you one thing,” said Raymond, emphatic- 
ally. “ I’ll never go into the pitcher’s box again under 
handicaps. Either I’ll pitch in my own way or I won’t 
pitch at all.” 

“ I don’t blame you a bit,” rejoined Longley, warmly, 
“ but you haven’t any reason to feel ashamed of your 
part in today’s game. It was the rest of us who 
tumbled down. You had a strike-out, a line catch, 


THE CASE MEN CELEBRATE 


I29 


and an assist to your credit, and held the Case men 
down to one safe hit. You didn’t lose your nerve, 
even when the fielding behind you was of the most 
saffron variety.” 

“ Moody says I demoralized the nine by lack of 
control at the start,” interposed Raymond. 

“ Poppycock ! ” was Longley’s sententious comment. 
“We simply had an off inning. They are liable to 
come in any game. The whole team was at fault. 
Don’t imagine for a moment, Benson,” he added, 
warmly, “ that all the team are standing by Moody 
in his treatment of you. We are pretty well on to 
the situation. Don’t make any breaks, old boy, and 
your chance will come yet.” 

He held out his hand and Raymond shook it warmly. 

“ Thank you, Charlie,” he said, gratefully. “ I know 
you are sincere, and what you have said, coming at this 
time, has encouraged me more than you can know. 
I shall not forget it,” and Raymond passed on to the 
big dining-room with a new appetite for his supper. 

Later in the evening he and Longley were sitting 
quietly on a settee that stood against the wall on one 
side of the hotel veranda, when they overheard the 
loud, assertive voice of Captain Moody around the 
corner, discussing the game with the Case manager. 

“ We’d a beaten you dead easy, to-day, ff I hadn’t 
made the almighty mistake of using that Freshman 
pitcher,” declared the big catcher with emphasis. 
“ Some of the fellows at Kenton have labored under 


130 


THE KENTON PINES 


the delusion that he's a phenomenon. Had to explode 
him some time. He lasted just one inning. Went 
into the air like a toy balloon." 

He burst into a loud laugh. 

“ There's one good thing about him, though," he 
continued. “ He knows when he's got enough. I 
looked around for him at the beginning of the second 
inning, but he'd taken a sneak, so I put Keaton into 
the box." 

Raymond rose quickly from his seat. Stepping 
around the corner he confronted Captain Moody, with 
head erect and flashing eyes. 

“ That’s a lie," he cried hotly, “ and you know it." 

For a moment Moody was startled and disconcerted. 
He made a motion as if to strike Raymond, but thought 
better of it and lowered his hand. Then, recovering 
his composure, he endeavored to meet the situation with 
his usual bluff. 

“ Well, you left the field in the last half of the first 
inning, didn’t you?" he blustered. 

“ Yes." 

“ And I put Keaton in to finish out the game, 
didn’t I?" 

“ Yes." 

“ There ! " continued Moody, triumphantly. “ That’s 
precisely what I said." 

“ No, it isn’t, either," cried Raymond. “ You gave 
this gentleman to understand that you put Keaton in 
because I had sneaked away. As a matter of fact you 


THE CASE MEN CELEBRATE I3I 

know very well that you told me that Keaton was to 
go in the next inning.” 

“ Yes, I heard him say it,” said Longley. 

“ So did I,” chimed in Claude Redford, who had 
come up in season to catch Raymond’s closing remark. 

“ Who has said anything to the contrary ? ” shouted 
Captain Moody, angrily. “ This here Freshman has 
been going around with a chip on his shoulder ever 
since he threw the game away, this afternoon. I don’t 
intend to stand much more of it. I’m willing to con- 
cede something to a fellow who is feeling sore, but I 
want you to understand that there’s a limit,” and turn- 
ing on his heel he abruptly left the group, and joined 
a coterie of players on the other end of the piazza. 

“ Didn’t you understand him to say that I skulked 
away from the game ? ” asked Raymond, addressing 
himself to the Case manager, when the big captain had 
gone. 

“ That’s certainly what I gathered from his remarks,” 
was the dry response. “ He appeared to qualify it later 
on, though.” 

“ Yes, he did,” assented Raymond, “ but not until 
I’d given him the lie. That’s the report, however, he 
was planning to spread among the fellows at Kenton.” 

“ You don’t mean that? ” cried Longley and Redford 
in the same breath. 

“ That’s just what I mean,” persisted Raymond, 
stoutly. “ He was not only ready to hold me up to 
the college as a fake pitcher, but he was anxious also 


i3 2 


THE KENTON PINES 


to make it appear that I was a coward and a craven. 
I tell you, fellows, I don’t purpose to stand for anything 
of the sort.” 

“ I don’t blame you,” said Longley. 

“ I wouldn’t if I were in your place,” added Claude 
Redford. “ I hope you will keep a cool head though, 
Raymond,” he continued, earnestly. “ It will mean a 
good deal to you. Any man who excels in anything is 
sure to get his chance sooner or later at old Kenton.” 

“ What’s the function that’s going on in the dining- 
room ? ” asked Longley, with an evident desire to turn 
the conversation into another channel. 

“ Oh, I believe that one of the Case professors has 
been called away, and Dr. Bruno and the other mem- 
bers of the faculty are giving him a farewell banquet.” 

The boys paused a moment near the open window, 
screened only by sash curtains through which came the 
noisy clatter of dishes and tableware, and the murmur 
of voices, broken now and then by shouts of laughter. 

The appetizing odors of the table were wafted out 
upon the evening breeze. 

“ There’s something stimulating in the smell of those 
funeral baked meats,” remarked Claude, smacking his 
lips. 

“ And a jolly crowd of old dogs seem to be enjoying 
them,” interposed Raymond. 

“ They’d be simply riotous if some of the boys were 
not here to keep an eye on them,” observed Claude, 

sagely. 


THE CASE MEN CELEBRATE 


133 


“What’s that?” asked Raymond, as the stirring 
strains of a brass band came floating down the street. 
They stopped to listen. Presently the music ceased, 
and was immediately followed by wild cheering, the 
blare of trumpets, and the discordant din of horns. 

“ Guess the Case boys are celebrating their victory,” 
said Longley. “ I heard that something of the sort 
was on the tapis.” 

It was evident that the sound was drawing nearer. 
Soon the procession came into view. It was headed 
by the Westerly brass band, behind which marched a 
line of students, many of whom carried torches. Those 
not thus equipped were provided with trumpets, mega- 
phones, and other devices for making a noise. At 
times the whole body broke into lusty cheers and 
snatches of song. Then would follow a “ horn con- 
cert,” which, in turn, gave way to a new selection by 
the band. It was evident that the paraders were in 
the best of humor. 

In four open carriages distributed at equal distances 
in the line, and drawn by enthusiastic students, were 
the members of the Case ball team. 

As the procession wheeled and came to a noisy halt 
in front of the hotel, Raymond from his place on the 
big piazza had a good opportunity to read the inscrip- 
tions on some of the transparencies that blazed at 
frequent intervals in the line. 

“ Benson Busted,” “ Case 12, Kenton 6 ,” “ We Are 
the People,” “ Kenton’s Korned,” “ We’re Out for the 


134 


THE KENTON PINES 


Pennant,” were some of the modest and suggestive 
expressions that caught his eye. 

“Isn’t this a trifle premature?” he asked, turning 
to Charlie Longley. “ The season’s young yet.” 

“ They are not missing any opportunities,” was the 
dry response. 

“ They are a good deal like the Irishman who rubbed 
the bull’s nose in the dirt,” chimed in Redford. “ They 
are going to make sure of their laugh by having it 
beforehand.” 

“ If they didn’t, it’s quite likely they wouldn’t have 
it at all,” said Raymond. 

By this time the leader of the procession had suc- 
ceeded in getting it lined up, as Redford remarked, 
“ on dress parade,” and a moment later, having gone 
into the hotel, he reappeared with Dr. Bruno, a young 
man who looked but little older than some of the 
students. When the cheers that greeted him had some- 
what subsided, he spoke as follows: 

“ My friends, I thank you for the honor of this greet- 
ing. I can and do rejoice with you in the victory 
achieved by our college to-day — the more so from the 
fact that it was pleasantly free from any features that 
could detract from its interest, as a contest of manly 
strength and skill, conducted in a spirit of friendly riv- 
alry. It was especially gratifying to me to see that you 
were not only enthusiastic in cheering on our own play- 
ers, but that you were also ready and willing to recog- 
nize and applaud the good plays of your opponents. 


THE CASE MEN CELEBRATE 


135 


Athletic contests between students are of value only as 
they develop genuine manliness, which is the essence of 
all true sport. An advantage improperly gained were 
best not gained at all. It is only when the victory is 
achieved through superior skill and effort, as was the 
case to-day, that we have a right to rejoice in the pres- 
tige it brings to us. I am glad to see this visible expres- 
sion of your good feeling, and permit me to add the 
hope that it may not run out of bounds — that nothing 
may occur, in fact, to mar the pleasure we all feel in this 
occasion. And now in closing let me propose in just 
recognition of the plucky game your opponents gave 
you to-day, that we give three cheers for the Kenton 
team.” 

The three cheers were given with a will, President 
Bruno leading off. 

“ What do you think of him ? ” asked Charlie Longley 
of Raymond, when the President had returned to the 
banquet. 

“ I like him,” said Raymond. 

“ Yes, he isn’t afraid of soiling his dignity by letting 
the boys see that he’s one of them at heart,” added 
Redford. “ I guess that’s what makes him so popular.” 

“ He’s a very efficient all-around man,” assented 
Longley. “ In fact, outside of our own Dr. Hysom — 
who is the best that ever happened — I don’t think you 
can find a better college executive in New England.” 

It was after midnight when the Kenton team returned 
to Plainsville. Only a few of the boys were at the sta- 


136 


THE KENTON PINES 


tion to meet them. The college community was evi- 
dently fast asleep. 

“ That’s the way in college athletics,” grumbled 
Charlie Longley, as they trudged wearily up the hill to 
the campus. “ If you win, you’re a live lion ; if you 
lose, you’re a deceased dog.” 


CHAPTER XII 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 

“ Welcome home again,” said Charlie Mansur cor- 
dially, as Raymond entered the room. “ Better luck 
next time. We can’t always win,” he added. 

The tall Senior sat, book in hand, upon one side of 
the little center-table with his back to the light and his 
feet upon the fender of the standard grate. His pos- 
ture curiously illustrated the force of habit. There had 
been no fire in the room for weeks. The night was 
close and sultry. Through the screens of the open win- 
dows came the subdued hum of a myriad of insects, 
while now and then a June-bug bumped noisily against 
the wire mesh in a vain attempt to reach the light. 

Raymond placed his travelling bag upon the couch, 
and threw himself moodily into the big chair on the op- 
posite side of the center-table. 

For a time neither of them spoke. Mansur was 
apparently absorbed in his reading and the long meer- 
schaum pipe he was smoking; but, from the corners of 
his eyes, was studying Raymond closely. Presently he 
laid his book aside and removed his pipe. “ Tell me 
about it,” he said, sympathetically, and resumed his 
smoking. 


137 


138 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ About what ? ” 

“ The game, and Ted Moody.” 

“ Well, you doubtless heard the result of the game 
about as soon as it was finished,” said Raymond, gloom- 
ily — “ and as for Moody — well, that’s a long story.” 

“ Let’s have it, old man,” said Mansur, kindly, and 
thus encouraged Raymond, with a sense of relief, pour- 
ed into his roommate’s ear a full account of his experi- 
ences at Westerly. 

Mansur made no comment. Occasionally he smoked 
with increased energy, and once or twice jumped hastily 
from his chair and went into the bedroom, where he 
washed and wiped his hands with nervous vigor. This 
was a habit of the tall Senior, when under the stress of 
special excitement, of which he appeared to be wholly 
unconscious. It had nevertheless been, at times, a 
source of considerable amusement to his college friends. 

Raymond paid no attention to these little ebullitions, 
and, in response to his roommate’s brief “ Go on,” 
would resume the narrative of the day’s incidents as if 
no interruption had occurred. 

When the story was completed, Mansur gave a deep 
sigh ; but made no comment. 

Raymond was disappointed. 

“ Well ? ” he said, inquiringly. 

“ Well what? ” asked Mansur. 

“ What do you think of it? ” 

“ Think of it? Nothing much. Moody was bound 
to throw you down if he could without jeopardizing too 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 


139 


much. He does not appear, however, to have been 
wholly successful. The college will be sure to hold his 
muffed fly, and wild throw responsible for a fair share 
of the mischief in that disastrous first inning. In this 
you are fortunate. It will create a diversion of senti- 
ment which will eventually work to your advantage, if 
you don’t spoil it.” 

“ Don’t spoil it? ” echoed Raymond. “ What do you 
mean ? ” 

“ I mean if you don’t permit your feelings to get the 
better of your judgment. Think whatever you like,” 
continued Mansur, as he rose with a yawn and laid 
aside his pipe, preparatory to retiring. “ Anathematize 
Moody in your soul if you must, but don’t — don’t — 
talk. It’s a mighty bad habit. If you make no breaks, 
neither Moody nor anybody else can prevent you from 
getting your fair chance in good season.” 

Raymond pondered this advice as he went to bed, and 
fell asleep with a steadfast determination to follow it. 

The following day he discovered that the college had 
accepted Captain Moody’s estimate of his pitching abili- 
ties. A few friends were still loyal to him, but they 
were chiefly classmates, and members of his fraternity. 
The prevailing sentiment was that he had been given a 
fair chance to show his worth, and had been found want- 
ing. 

Raymond returned to his room from his morning 
recitations much depressed in spirit. He was hot and 
resentful at the ill-usage of which he had been the vie- 


140 


THE KENTON PINES 


tim, and conscious that the college generally had no just 
appreciation of the real facts. 

Upon his desk he found three letters which Mansur 
had placed there during his absence. One was in the 
round full hand of Ned Grover. “ If I’d only had him 
to catch me, things would have been very different,” he 
muttered as he eagerly broke the seal, and read as fol- 
lows : 

“ Dear Raymond : 

“ We are planning to have at Woodville next year the 
strongest ball team in our history. Six of our old men 
are still in college, and Palmer, the crack short-stop of 
the Dalton team, is to join us in the fall. We have also 
some first-class men coming in with the next Freshman 
class including Bennett the hard-hitting first baseman 
of the Stewart Preparatory School, and Ridgin, the 
center fielder of the Caswell Preparatory School. You 
have played against them all, and know what they are 
and what they will develop into under professional 
coaching. There is also a considerable amount of other 
good material upon which we may draw if necessary. 
In short, we shall be exceedingly strong everywhere, 
with the possible exception of the box. Bronson who 
did such good work for us this season is in the grad- 
uating class. This will only leave us Perry, our left 
hander. He has good speed, sharp curves and a baffling 
change of pace, but is liable to be very erratic at times. 
We do not feel that he can be depended upon as a stand- 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 141 

by, although this being his first season, he will improve 
with experience and coaching. 

“ In short, Raymond, we want you. It would seem 
like old times again for me to be facing your delivery, 
and I know I could catch better ball than I did this sea- 
son. Grey son and Parker are as anxious as I am to be 
on a team with you once more. It would seem some- 
thing like our old Champion Krampton team again if 
you were only with us. I know something of the way 
you have been used this season. The idea of keeping a 
man like you on the bench and using mediocre men like 
Lincoln — who can’t pitch a little bit — and Keaton, 
who is some better, but will never set the river afire! 
It’s a positive outrage ! 

“ I would never have asked our management to make 
you a financial proposition had not a letter which I have 
just received from father led me to believe that it might 
be an inducement to you. One thing is sure, I must be 
with you next season. I can’t stand this separation 
any longer. And now to business. 

“ Our team has never been a money maker ; but the 
General Athletic committee has decided to assign us one- 
third of the football profits next fall, and that will more 
than put us on Easy street. The manager is a good 
friend of mine. If you will come to us we will see that 
you get one of our best scholarships. This will more 
than take care of your tuition. We will also pay your 
board and room rent, and will allow you five dollars a 
week for incidentals. No one save you and me and the 


142 


THE KENTON PINES 


manager of our team need ever know anything about 
it. We can cover these items in other ways. 

“ I trust, old boy, you will decide to come to us here. 
I’m sure I should find the Woodville atmosphere vastly 
more congenial if you were here with me. Think it 
over carefully. If you decide to come, I shall be the 
happiest fellow at Woodville. If not, excuse and burn 
this long letter and believe me as ever, 

“Your true friend, 

“ Edward Grover ” 

Raymond laid down this letter with uncertain emo- 
tions. A great fear came over him. What could Ned 
mean by his reference to the greater force of financial 
inducements ? 

With a feeling of dread he hastily broke the seal of 
the second letter. It was from his mother and read as 
follows : 

“ My Dear Son : — 

“You have probably seen by the papers that the 
drouth has hung up your father’s drives in the small 
streams. The banks, I think, will give him an exten- 
sion of time on his loans, but Mr. Shadheimer insists 
upon the payment of his notes in July. We hope for 
the best ; but it is a heavy strain on your father and he 
has grown thin and careworn under it. The situation 
is all the more trying from the present prosperous con- 
dition of the lumber market, which would insure your 
father a handsome profit on his logs, if he could only 
get them in. The outlook now is that he will not be able 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 


143 


to sell them before another spring — and it is difficult 
to see how he can carry his present burden until then. I 
have written you without your father’s knowledge for I 
felt that you should know the true situation. 

“We hope and pray that all may come out well, 
although just now the situation is far from encourag- 
ing. Do what you can, my son, to make your father’s 
burden as light as possible. 

“Your affectionate mother, 

“ Lucy D. Benson." 

Raymond laid down his mother’s letter with a pang 
of remorse. It was true, he reflected, that he had been 
thoughtless. He had forgotten his father’s cares in his 
own little troubles, and his reading of the newspapers 
had been chiefly confined to a perusal of their baseball 
departments. 

He paced nervously up and down the room. 

“ Why," he reflected bitterly, “ has my father ever 
had any business dealings with a man like Shadheimer ? 
There is no vestige of soul in him. He is a modern 
Shylock, and now, it appears, he is demanding his pound 
of flesh." 

He turned again to Ned’s letter. Dear old Ned! 
What a pleasure it would be to associate with him again. 
Why not ? It would relieve his father of his expenses, 
and render certain the completion of his college course. 
It would, moreover, enable him to turn his back upon a 
situation that was becoming decidedly uncomfortable 
for him. What a pleasure it would be for him to pitch 


144 


THE KENTON PINES 


to Ned Grover again. He could picture his old friend 
in his mind, stocky in build, and active as a cat. He 
could almost see his bright, black eyes looking out 
through his mask, and hear his encouraging call “ Got 
him on the anxious seat! Drive ’em right along, old 
man ! ” 

Another year Charlie Mansur, his closest friend at 
Kenton, would be no longer in college, and while he 
should part with regret from the members of his class, 
who had always been loyal to him — especially such men 
as Longley, Redford, Evans, and Lennox — he felt that 
he could probably break away at the close of that term 
better than he ever could again. 

Presently a shadow crossed his face. He had for- 
gotten the Bayburg game. For pitching this he had 
been paid $15.00 and expenses. He knew that in the 
league of which Woodville was a member this would 
constitute professionalism ; and bar him from participa- 
tion in any of the games. With Ned’s letter before him 
he smiled a little grimly at the thought. He knew very 
well that a number of the players in the league to which 
Woodville belonged had been beguiled from smaller 
institutions by inducements similar to those which had 
been offered him, and yet the management purported 
to hold up its hands in horror at any taint of profes- 
sionalism. 

So far as he knew not a single man on any of the 
teams in the league to which Kenton belonged was 
encouraged in such a manner. All were bona fide stu- 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 


145 


dents of the institutions to which they belonged. Many 
of them were poor boys, who played upon semi-profes- 
sional teams during the summer vacation to assist in 
defraying their legitimate college expenses. It was a 
wholly honorable way of earning money in a field where 
the returns were larger than could be secured in almost 
any other way, and yet any one of these men who went 
to a college in the highly moral league of which Wood- 
ville was a member would be stigmatized as a “ pro- 
fessional,” and not permitted to participate in its inter- 
collegiate games. 

A strong temptation came to Raymond. The Bay- 
burg Athletic Club was an amateur organization. No 
one but its manager and Claude Redford knew posi- 
tively that he had received pay for his work in the Fast 
day game. Why not return the money, and pledge 
them both to secrecy. They would then be able to state 
positively if the question should ever be raised, that his 
services for that game were absolutely gratuitous. 
Thus the way would be clear for him to accept Ned's 
offer, and go to Woodville. 

The struggle was a brief one. Raymond's innate 
love of truth and straightforward dealing triumphed. 
He dismissed the thought as one unworthy of himself. 
He blushed to think that he had entertained it for a 
moment. Seating himself at his desk he wrote the fol- 
lowing reply to Ned: 

“ Dear Ned : 

“Your favor is at hand. I cannot entertain your 


146 


THE KENTON PINES 


proposition, although you may never realize how much 
of a temptation it has been to me. I should never feel 
right to go through college under such conditions. It 
would be living a lie. Besides I could not become a 
member of the Woodville team under any conditions. 
As you probably know I pitched the Fast day game for 
the Bayburg Athletic team against the Rochester club. 
For this service I was paid $15.00 and expenses. I 
cannot go to you, but why can you not come to me? 
Believe me, Ned, it will be much better for you to secure 
your education and form your college associations here, 
where the acquaintances you will make and the associa- 
tions you will form will mean more to you in after years. 
I know it was your father’s wish that you should come 
to Kenton with me, and that he would be much pleased 
if you were to make the change. 

“ The situation could not be more favorable. Our 
present catcher graduates next June, and the college 
would welcome you with open arms. You would be in 
a position to help me a great deal — although as both of 
our pitchers are Seniors — I anticipate a better show 
another year. My roommate is also in the Senior class, 
and the way would be clear for you to come in with 
me next fall. I am as anxious as you can be that we 
should be together in the future ; but aren’t you the one 
to make the change? Think it over and let me hear 
from you. 

“ Sincerely your friend, 

“ Raymond Benson/' 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 


147 


Raymond felt better when he had sealed and directed 
this letter. Laying it upon the corner of the mantel 
where he would be reminded to mail it, he opened the 
third letter which had come in his morning’s mail. It 
was a pleasantly informal note from Miss Amsden. 

“ Dear Mr. Benson,” she wrote. “ You must excuse 
my delay in answering your very kind letter asking me 
to go with you to the Class Day Hop. I have been 
absent from home and have just received it. I accept 
your invitation with pleasure. Charlie has told me how 
Moody has used you on the ball team. I think it detest- 
able; but I am sure you will yet come out ahead. I 
should be very glad to have you call when opportunity 
affords. 

“ Sincerely yours, 

“ Janet Amsden.” 

Raymond laid this letter aside with a pleased light in 
his eyes, and, seating himself at his desk, wrote an 
encouraging letter to his mother, although his own 
heart was heavy at the outlook, assuring her that if it 
became necessary he would cheerfully throw up his 
college course and go to work. He urged her to keep 
up her courage, and expressed strong faith that every- 
thing would yet come out well. 

As he was sealing this communication, Mansur 
entered the room. 

“ I’ve just been having a plain talk with Moody,” he 
announced, briefly. “ He’s avoided me all this term, 
but I followed him to his room, after the Psychology 


148 


THE KENTON PINES 


lesson, and had my little say. In fact I didn’t mince 
matters with him.” 

“ What did he have to say? ” asked Raymond, curi- 
ously. 

“ That’s the surprising thing. Do you know, old 
man, the fellow almost made me believe he was sincere. 
He asked me with tears in his eyes if I thought he 
would intentionally do anything to weaken his team. 
He assured me that he had more at stake in its success 
than any other man, and declared with considerable 
vehemence that his only reason for not using you was 
your unwillingness to take his instructions, and his belief 
that you could not prove a winner with your present 
methods.” 

“ He has already told me that,” interposed Raymond. 

“ I told him very frankly,” continued Mansur, “ that 
I didn’t think he used you right, and that there are lots 
of other fellows in college who think as I do. I asked 
him what he expected to do in the next game with Case, 
and he said he intended to win it and land the cham- 
pionship. I told him he couldn’t with Lincoln or Kea- 
ton in the box; that each of them had been up against 
that team this season — one in an exhibition game, and 
one in a championship game, and both had been batted 
all over the lot. I asked him what reason he had for 
believing they could do any better work in the next 
game.” 

“ And did he give any? ” 

“ Oh, he merely asserted they would both be in better 


A CALL FROM WOODVILLE 


149 


form, and he hadn’t any doubt but that they would give 
a good account of themselves.” 

“If we lose the next game, it’s a tie between Kenton 
and Case for the championship,” said Raymond. 
“ What would happen then ? ” 

“ Why, we’d have to play it off.” 

“ Where?” 

“ Either here or at Case. The managers would 
decide that by lot.” 

“ Well, I hope we’ll win it,” said Raymond. 

Mansur gave him a pleased look. 

“ I’m glad to hear you talk that way,” he said. 

Several days later the Case team came to Kenton for 
the last game of the scheduled series. 

Lincoln and Keaton were both used in the box, but 
were powerless to keep down the hits. The result was 
an overwhelming defeat for the home team. The cham- 
pionship was a tie. 

Before the Case team returned home the two man- 
agers drew lots to see where the deciding game for the 
championship should be played. Kenton won, and by 
mutual agreement Vine day, a college holiday, specially 
dedicated to Junior class exercises, was selected as the 
date. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE VINE DAY BALL GAME 

The Kenton students were looking- forward a little 
nervously to the great Vine day game with Case. Com- 
ing on a college holiday and involving as it did the 
championship of the league, the contest was sure to 
attract a large crowd. This the Kenton men were con- 
fident would prove a decided stimulus to their team, and 
while the games already played with Case were not 
reassuring, they still indulged the hope that the tide 
would turn, and yield them a victory. 

The long-looked-for day came at last. Captain 
Moody, deeming it wise to defer somewhat to college 
sentiment, and influenced perhaps by his talk with Man- 
sur, whose influence among the students he knew and 
respected, supplied Raymond with a uniform and asked 
him to report with the team. 

The weather was perfect. The gray mists that had 
occasioned some anxiety in the forenoon faded slowly 
away, and the afternoon sun came out brightly, bringing 
with it a feeling of buoyancy and cheer to spectators 
and players. 

“ Couldn’t have had a better day if it had been made 
to order,” said Charlie Mansur gleefully to Victor 
iso 


THE VINE DAY BALL GAME 1 5 1 

Evans as they passed through the big gate, and walked 
slowly down the cinder path towards the grandstand. 

Already the big field was beginning to fill with spec- 
tators, many of them ladies, whose bright parasols and 
light summer dresses, decked with college colors, gave 
life and warmth to the scene. 

“ Looks something like a football crowd,” commented 
Evans, as his eye swept the field. “ I mean, of course, 
in numbers,” he hastened to add. 

“ I thought you had overlooked those summer 
dresses,” laughed Mansur — “ to say nothing of that 
hothouse millinery, which would look just a trifle 
belated in the football season. But say, old man, isn’t 
this really inspiring? If our fellows can’t win to-day, 
they never can. I don’t believe the conditions will ever 
be more favorable.” 

“ Yes, it’s all right,” assented Evans, “ but I should 
feel a good deal safer if Benson were going to pitch, 
to-day. The Case team has been showing up pretty 
strong of late, and neither Lincoln nor Keaton has done 
any really gilt-edged work this season.” 

“ Don’t get melancholy, old man. It isn’t like you. 
Cheer up ; Raymond will be in uniform ready to respond 
to the call, which, between you and me, I think is pretty 
sure to come to him. That’s one thing that makes me 
so confident. I tell you this is our day.” 

By this time the pair had, with some difficulty, secured 
seats in the grandstand, and turned to watch the crowd, 
now chiefly students and town boys, still passing in a 


152 


THE KENTON PINES 


continuous but straggling line through the gate and tak- 
ing their places along the low wire fence on either side 
of the ball ground. 

On the side across the field from the grandstand were 
grouped a number of the adherents of the Case team 
looking somewhat weak in comparison with the surging 
crowd of Kenton sympathizers, but endeavoring to 
make up in enthusiasm for any disparity in numbers. 

The interval of waiting was filled with college songs, 
and a frequent interchange of college cheers. 

A burst of enthusiasm, mingling cheers with the din 
of horns, greeted Captain Moody and his men as they 
came upon the field at a run, and took their places for 
practice. It was evident that their friends were deter- 
mined that there should be no lack of the encouragement 
and stimulus which athletes always draw from a 
friendly audience. 

Presently the Case team made their appearance at a 
dog-trot, and were given a vociferous welcome by their 
supporters. After a brief time spent in practice the 
game was started. 

A hush fell upon the throng of spectators as Umpire 
Jevens stepped behind the plate, and called play. 

For three innings the game was closely contested, 
the score standing 4 to 4. The big crowd, led on either 
side by cheering committees armed with megaphones, 
had shouted itself hoarse in the encouragement of its 
favorites, and still the enthusiasm showed no signs of 
abating. 


THE VINE DAY BALL GAME 


153 


At this point the fortunes of Kenton began to wane. 

Keaton was at the bat in the last half of the inning 
when a swift in-shoot struck him on the elbow of his 
pitching arm, forcing his retirement from the game. 

A groan of dismay went up from the Kenton adher- 
ents when they saw what had happened. Keaton had 
done by far the more consistent work of the two Senior 
pitchers throughout the season, while Lincoln had at no 
time been able to pitch effectively against the Case bats- 
men. 

The inning closed without a score, and Lincoln took 
Keaton’s place in the box. It was evident, however, 
that he was oppressed and rendered nervous by the bur- 
den of his responsibility. He hit the first man at the 
bat, but a beautiful stop and throw by Third Baseman 
Arnold, and two superb running catches of long flies in 
deep center by Claude Redford, enabled him to bring 
the Kenton half of the inning to a close without scoring. 
The Case pitcher was equally fortunate, and the fourth 
inning closed with the score still 4 to 4. 

In the opening half of the fifth inning Pitcher Lincoln, 
in the language of the players, “ went all to pieces.” 
He gave three men bases on balls in succession, and then 
forced in a run by hitting a fourth. This mishap 
appeared to disconcert him, and he followed it with a 
wild pitch that cleared the foul board and rolled away 
into the back field, enabling the Case men to clear the 
bases. Then followed a succession of base hits that 
made Kenton sympathizers sick at heart. 


154 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Take him out! Take him out! Benson! Ben- 
son ! ” came the shout, almost like a muffled roar, from 
the grandstand, but Captain Moody was obdurate. A 
brilliant double play made by Charlie Longley relieved 
the situation, and a moment later Captain Moody 
closed Kenton's half of the inning by throwing out a 
runner at second base. Throwing was the one point 
in which the captain usually shone with conspicuous 
brilliancy. 

“ It will be a procession if they keep on this way,” 
said Victor Evans, in tones of deep disgust. 

“ Do you think so ? ” inquired Cheney Smith, the 
Kenton manager, who overheard the remark. 

“ That's what I do,” affirmed Evans, stoutly. 

“ You’ll have more heart when you get older,” 
responded the manager with quiet sarcasm. “ I've seen 
Kenton teams pull out of many a worse hole than this.” 

“ You'll not see it to-day, if you keep Lincoln in the 
box,” asserted Charlie Mansur with emphasis. 

The big Senior’s words carried weight with the man- 
ager. 

“ Do you think Benson can do any better? ” he asked, 
doubtfully. 

“Do I think he can do better?” repeated Mansur. 
“ Well, one thing is certain, he can't do any worse. It's 
my opinion he’ll make the man you have rattling around 
in the box now look like thirty cents.” 

“ But Moody, who has caught them all, says he's no 
good,” persisted the manager. 


THE VINE DAY BALL GAME 


155 


That s because he doesn’t like to catch him,” 
responded Mansur, warmly. 

“That’s it! That’s what’s the matter!” was the 
comment of several Freshmen who sat near. 

“ I can’t believe that, Charlie,” said the manager, 
reflectively. “ I’ve never seen an indication of anything 
of the sort. He’s always caught Lincoln and Keaton 
in good shape.” 

“ They are very different propositions from Benson,” 
returned Mansur, warmly. 

“ Do you really think so ? ” 

“ There isn’t any doubt of it. He’ll prove it, too, if 
he ever gets a fair chance.” 

It was evident that a number of upper-classmen who 
sat around him, and who had been interested listeners 
to the conversation were a good deal impressed with 
Mansur’s assertions. The manager looked troubled. 

“ I want you to believe, fellows,” he said with evident 
feeling, “ that I haven’t any interest except for the good 
of the team. Benson has refused to receive instructions 
from the older players — persisted in hanging on to his 
old fitting school methods, and as a result lost us a game 
at Case that would have given us the pennant.” 

“ No, he didn’t,” exclaimed Charlie Mansur with 
emphasis. “ Moody lost that game by refusing to 
catch his most effective curves.” 

“ I never heard of that,” said the manager. 

“ It’s true, just the same,” insisted Mansur. 

“ I don’t see how the loss of that game can be charged 


THE KENTON PINES 


156 

to Benson,” interposed big Link Brown. “ I saw it 
played, and I thought he did fully as well as any of our 
boys. The fielding was certainly rotten enough to dis- 
courage almost any pitcher.” 

Manager Smith was evidently impressed by what had 
been said. He made 110 further comment, but hurried 
nervously out of the grandstand and joined the players 
on the bench, where he was soon engaged in earnest 
conversation with Captain Moody. 

For a time the hopes of the Kenton supporters 
revived, when Second Baseman Longley got his base 
on balls and scored, in a fury of applause, on a fine 
three-bagger by First Baseman Penton, the best hitter 
on the team. The rally was a brief one, however, and 
was brought to an untimely end soon after when, with 
two men on bases, Captain Moody closed the inning by 
striking out — to the intense disgust of the Kenton 
“ rooters,” 

“ Always was a quitter,” “ Never could rise to an 
emergency,” “ Tries too hard to knock the cover off 
the ball.” 

With these and various other similar comments, they 
voiced their disappointment and chagrin at the failure 
of the home team to rise to the occasion. 

With the opening of the fifth inning Raymond was 
seen making his way towards the box. 

“ It’s Benson! They’re going to pitch the Fresh- 
man,” was the excited comment that passed about the 
field. 


THE VINE DAY BALL GAME 


157 


“ Three cheers for Benson ! ” called the captain of the 
cheering crowd, and they were given with vociferous 
enthusiasm. Kenton courage was beginning to revive 
again. 

A slight flush mantled the young pitcher’s face as he 
took his place in the box. His movements, however, 
were cool and deliberate for he had in mind Cy Devons’ 
old precept, “ Let the batsman do all the worrying.” 
He turned and leisurely surveyed the position of the 
out-field; then motioning the players to come closer to 
the diamond he moved the men in right and left further 
to the side. 

Like a flash the wisdom of this change dawned upon 
the spectators who greeted it with a hearty cheer. Kent 
in right and Tobey in left, were not fast players, but 
Redford, who covered an immense amount of territory, 
was already recognized as the best out-fielder in the 
league. 

“ Well done, old boy! ” shouted big Link Brown, in 
stentorian tones that were heard throughout the big 
grandstand. “ Going to give Redford a chance to show 
his gait! Well, that’s biz. He’s been tumbling over 
those two ice-wagons all the afternoon.” 

Charlie Mansur turned to him with a beaming face. 

“ Amen to you, Link ! ” he cried. “ It’s certainly 
refreshing to see something in this game besides bull 
strength and awkwardness.” 

Raymond was slowly digging a heel into the earth 
back in the back part of the pitcher’s box, and coolly 


i5« 


THE KENTON PINES 


eyeing the batsman, while these comments were in prog- 
ress. 

His leisurely movements were proving very exasper- 
ating to the Case adherents. 

“ Get a move on ! ” “ Come into the game ! ” 

“ Hire a hack ! ” “ Play ball ! ” they shouted. 

But Raymond was not to be hurried. 

He had studied Captain Smithers, the batsman, and 
knew that every movement of deliberation in the deliv- 
ery of the ball was making him more nervous and 
reducing his chances of hitting safely. Then he finally 
delivered the ball with a quick motion. The batsman 
evidently expected it to be a speedy one. Instead it 
turned out to be a slow drop that seemed to crawl up 
to the plate. The batsman swung at it quickly, and 
failed to meet it fairly. As a result it rolled easily into 
Raymond’s hands, and was quickly and accurately 
fielded to first base. 

“ Three cheers for Benson ! ” shouted Link Brown 
jumping upon his seat, when the applause that greeted 
this play had somewhat subsided. 

“Rah! Rah! Rah! ! ! 

Rah! Rah! Rah!!! 

Rah ! Rah ! Rah ! ! ! ” 

burst in a pent up chorus of enthusiasm from the Ken- 
ton adherents, and the big grandstand was alive with the 
waving college colors in the hands of the fair sympa- 
thizers. Raymond touched his cap in acknowledgment 
of the loyal encouragement extended him. His pulses 


THE VINE DAY BALL GAME 


159 


quickened with the perception that at last he had the 
whole college behind him. Up to this point he had 
worked wholly upon his nerve; now he felt all his old- 
time confidence returning. 

He looked at Center Fielder Larcom of the Case 
team, who stood facing him and defiantly pounding the 
end of his bat upon the plate. Then the tactics of the 
young Kenton pitcher changed with unexpected rapidity. 
Swinging his arm quickly above his head and throwing 
his body forward in harmony with the motion, he deliv- 
ered a ball so swift that it seemed to the spectators 
almost as if it might have come from a catapult. The 
big Case player threw his bat back as if to strike, but 
held it there evidently thinking that ball was going wide. 
In this he was mistaken. As the ball approached the 
plate it curved sharply in, cutting it squarely across the 
center. 

“ Strike one ! ” said the umpire, but his voice was 
drowned in the wild cheers of the home sympathizers. 
Kenton pluck and aggressiveness was asserting itself 
with all its old-time energy and vociferousness. 

Again the ball came swiftly towards the plate but 
broke to the left in an out-shoot that went more than 
two feet wide of it. The champion batter of the league 
did not offer to strike at it. He was evidently not an 
easy man to fool. Scarcely had the ball been returned 
to him, when Raymond sent it swiftly towards the plate 
again with, apparently, the same motion. Once more 
Larcom waited for it to break away as before. This 


i6o 


THE KENTON PINES 


time, however, it came straight on, and he heard the 
ominous announcement from the umpire: 

“ Strike two ! ” 

Again the Kenton contingent rose to its feet as one 
man, and vented its enthusiasm in lusty cheers. 

The next two pitches were called balls. 

It was now a battle royal between the pitcher and 
the batsman. The next ball would tell the story. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A NERVE-WEARING GAME 

The Case men were well satisfied that the game was 
coming their way. 

“ You’ve got him in the hole ! ” “ He’s weakening ! ” 

“ Play ball, old man ! ” “ Play ball ! ” shouted their 

coachers exultantly. 

Larcom rubbed his hands in the dirt and grasped his 
bat with determination. 

The strain upon the Kenton men was growing 
intense. They waited in breathless suspense and for- 
bore to cheer. 

Captain Moody took his mask in his hand and moved 
forward to the center of the diamond to meet Ray- 
mond. 

“ Give him a drop next time,” he said, in a low 
voice. 

Raymond shook his head. 

“ That won’t do at all,” he said, decisively. “ That’s 
just what he’s looking for. I’ll fan him on an under- 
hand rise.” 

“ He’ll drive it a mile if he hits it fairly,” was the 
surly response. “ Besides that, I won’t catch rises. 
I haven’t practised them.” 

161 


THE KENTON PINES 


162 

“That isn’t my fault,” said Raymond, bitterly. 

“ You do as I tell you,” was the sharp response. 
“ I’m captain of this team.” 

“ Look here, Moody,” said Raymond, wrathfully, 
“ if I stay in this box I’m going to pitch my own 
game in my own way. I don’t intend to repeat my 
Case experience if Lknow myself. If you can’t catch 
me either tell the boys so fairly, or get out and give 
Redford a chance.” 

“ No parlor charades ! ” “ Play ball ! ” shouted the 
crowd, impatiently. Captain Moody was powerless to 
control the situation. He gave Raymond a look of 
surly resentment, and returned sullenly to his position 
behind the bat. 

A moment later a sharp underhand rise came squarely 
over the plate. The big Case batsman swung viciously 
at it and missed it. A cry of disappointment went up 
from the Kenton spectators as they saw the ball bound 
from Captain Moody’s mitt and fall some distance to 
his right. But the big catcher’s throwing powers now 
stood him in good stead. With a bound he gathered 
up the ball for a swift line throw to the first baseman. 
When the Kenton forces saw it settle into Penton’s 
mitt three feet ahead of the runner, pandemonium 
broke loose. Hats were thrown in the air, and flags 
and parasols were waved with frantic enthusiasm. 
Some of the usually most staid of the students hugged 
each other in a very ecstasy of delight. Never had 
wilder or more joyous cheers been heard upon the 



“You do as I tei/l you; I’m captain of this team.” 

Page 162. 




























A NERVE-WEARING GAME 1 63 

Wentworth athletic field, even in the height of the 
football season. 

For the first time that year the mighty batsman of 
the Case team had fanned out; and the Kenton men 
realized that the graduation of their old pitcher would 
not leave them with any weakness in the box. 

Leatherby, the next batsman, hit at the first ball 
pitched and went out on a foul fly to the first baseman. 

The inning was over. The Case men had been 
retired without a run. Kenton confidence and courage 
was beginning to rise again. The Case men were 
correspondingly depressed. 

Captain Moody’s men went to the bat with new 
determination and fell upon the delivery of the Case 
pitcher with an old-time batting streak. When the 
long inning came to a close they had made seven runs 
and the score stood: Case 15, Kenton 11. 

The tide, however, had turned, and Kenton was 
“ playing her game.” From this point on the contest 
developed into a pitchers’ battle. The batting on either 
side was light, and the fielders of both teams were 
playing a sharp, clean game. 

The ninth inning closed with the score standing 
15 to 15. 

Raymond was pitching wonderful ball. Time and 
time again the Kenton adherents held their breath, 
while he skilfully worked his team out of tight places. 
The tenth, eleventh, and twelfth innings passed with- 
out a score on either side. Both pitchers were driving 


164 


THE KENTON PINES 


home each ball as if it were to be their last. A breath- 
less silence brooded over the field. Each side forebore 
to cheer. The strain was becoming oppressive in its 
intensity. A number of the students, unable to sit 
still any longer, left the grandstand and paced nerv- 
ously up and down the cinder track. 

“ It’s got to break soon,” muttered Link Brown, in 
a voice that was audible to many of the spectators. 
“ Flesh and blood can’t stand this pace much longer.” 

“ It’s the game of his life,” whispered Victor Evans 
to Charlie Mansur, with an admiring glance at Ray- 
mond. 

The Freshman pitcher was facing his opponents with 
every nerve strained to the highest tension. Stern 
determination shone in his countenance. Every move- 
ment was made with a cool and deliberate purpose. 
It was evident that he was working his head as well 
as his strong right arm. 

“ Never saw a man mix ’em so before,” said the 
Case first baseman, as he threw away his bat in disgust 
after opening the thirteenth inning with a strike-out. 
“ I tell you, boys, that fellow’s a wonder. I couldn’t 
touch him with a ten-foot pole.” 

The next man went out on a long fly to Redford 
in center field. 

Leatherby, the Case short-stop, who followed him, 
drew a base on balls. An audible groan went up from 
the Kenton people when Captain Moody, in attempting 
to catch him at second base, threw over Charlie Long- 


A NERVE-WEARING GAME 1 65 

ley’s head, enabling the swift-footed little athlete to 
reach third. This error appeared to rattle Captain 
Moody, and a moment later a passed ball enabled 
Leatherby to score. 

Dismay shone on the lengthened faces of the Ken- 
ton contingent. Unable to longer stand the strain, a 
number of the fainter-hearted students left the ground, 
declaring that the “ jig was up.” 

The outlook for the Kenton team was certainly 
dubious and when Captain Moody opened his half of 
the thirteenth inning with a strike-out the gloom deep- 
ened. Hope revived a little when Claude Redford 
made a safe hit to right field, and something like 
enthusiasm was roused again when Jake Penton hit a 
smashing grounder that glanced from the hands of 
Leatherby, the short-stop, who was over-anxious to 
gather it, and bounded away into left field. A moment 
later, Redford and Penton further revived the droop- 
ing hopes of their friends by a neat double steal of 
second and third, the Case catcher not daring to venture 
the chance of a throw. 

Charlie Longley hit a short fly which was easily 
gathered in by the right fielder. It looked as if the 
day were lost, and spectators began to file out of the 
grandstand, preparatory to leaving the field. 

It was Raymond’s turn at the bat. The young 
pitcher had not made a base hit during the game, and 
even his best friends scarcely dared to hope that he 
would be equal to this emergency. The first two balls 


THE KENTON PINES 


1 66 

pitched to him were fouled off to right field. It was 
evident that the Case captain was putting forth a 
supreme effort to clinch the game. At no time during 
the long contest had he shown greater speed in his 
delivery. 

“ Strike one ! ” called the umpire, as a ball cut the 
plate at which Raymond failed to offer. 

“ Don’t let the good ones go by ! ” “ Line ’em out ! ” 
“ Line ’em out ! ” shouted some of the Kenton men, 
desperately. 

Raymond attempted to follow this advice and swung 
sharply at the next ball pitched; but it eluded his bat 
and nestled snugly in the catcher’s mitt. 

“ It’s all over — too bad — too bad — he deserved 
to win,” were some of the expressions of regret that 
came from the crowd as the procession moved deject- 
edly towards the gate. 

Presently a tumult of exultant cheers rang over the 
field. Those who were leaving the grounds turned to 
see the Case right fielder chasing desperately but vainly 
after a long line hit driven between him and the center 
fielder, while Redford and Penton, urged on by the 
frantic shouts of the Kenton coachers, dashed swiftly 
across the home plate. 

The great game was won and with it the League 
championship. The Kenton forces gave way to a 
delirium of exultation. The perspiring players hugged 
each other in an exuberance of joy. Hats, canes, 
umbrellas and even dainty flags were thrown high in 


A NERVE-WEARING GAME 


167 


the air with a reckless disregard of consequences. Pan- 
demonium reigned supreme. Cheer after cheer rang 
out on the big field, and then, as if by a common 
impulse, the Kenton students rushed upon the diamond 
and lifting the players of their team upon their shoul- 
ders bore them in triumphant procession to the gate. 

A few moments later, Raymond, surrounded by a 
group of happy students, was making his way through 
the pines toward the college grounds. His perspiring 
and dust-grimed face wore a haggard look, and he 
was beginning to feel the reaction that came from the 
tension of the game. 

“ Tired, old man? ” asked Victor Evans solicitously, 
as he rested a hand affectionately upon his shoulder. 

“ Just a trifle, but a good shower-bath and a rub- 
down will make me as good as new,” he answered, 
with a smile. 

“ Don’t wonder at it,” said Link Brown, warmly. 
“ That was a wonderful game you pitched. The town 
is yours to-night, my boy.” 

“ No, only a part of it,” answered Raymond, 
warmly. “ There are eight other fellows, each of 
whom is entitled to an equal share. Besides, I think 
a good slice of it should be set aside for you fellows 
who cheered us on so handsomely. I tell you, fellows, 
you had a part in winning the game as well as we. 
Any man can do his best,” he added, modestly, “ when 
he has such support as that” 

“ Nevertheless, old man,” said Claude Redford, 


THE KENTON PINES 


1 68 

quietly, “ it was your great work that won the day 
for us. All the boys concede that.” 

The statement was heartily endorsed by the other 
members of the group, and Raymond was hot per- 
mitted to enter any protest. 

As the party crossed College Street to the campus, 
a phaeton drew up by the roadside. 

“ You are not going to pass us by, are you, Mr. 
Benson?” said a familiar voice. 

Raymond turned quickly to meet the sparkling eyes 
of Janet Amsden. She held out a small hand with 
impulsive eagerness. 

“ Let me congratulate you ! ” she said warmly, her 
dark eyes aglow with enthusiasm. “ Oh, it was grand ! 
It was lovely ! ” 

“ I am glad we won,” said Raymond, simply. 

He thought, as he looked into her bright face, lit up 
with the spirit of the occasion, that he had never seen 
her look more beautiful than she did at that moment. 

“ Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Miss 
Upham,” continued Miss Amsden, turning to the tall 
girl who sat beside her. “ Mary, this is the ruling 
hero of Kenton.” 

Raymond was conscious of blushing. 

“ You see, he hasn’t grown fully accustomed to his 
new honors yet,” added Janet, mischievously. 

“ I am very glad to know you, Mr. Benson,” said 
Miss Upham, with frank cordiality. “ I saw your 
wonderful work, to-day, and could not help thinking 


A NERVE-WEARING GAME 1 69 

that if you had been at Woodville this year, we, too, 
might have won the pennant.” 

“ I am afraid you flatter me,” said Raymond, quickly. 
“ WoodVille has a strong team. Some of my old 
friends are on it.” 

“ Yes, I know them very well,” was the smiling 
response, “ and I have often heard them speak of you 
— especially your old catcher and roommate, Ned 
Grover. I fancy,” she added, “ that he has never quite 
recovered from the shock of separation.” 

“ Ned is a prince of good fellows,” said Raymond, 
enthusiastically. “ We were schoolmates and chums 
before we went to'Krampton together. I take it your 
home is in Woodville?” he continued, inquiringly. 

“ Yes, my brother is the manager of the team there,” 
she answered. “ He has frequently entertained the 
players in our home.” 

“ We shall have to reunite this Damon and Pythias,” 
laughed Miss Amsden. “ Do you know that you have 
made me anxious to see Mr. Grover. What is he like ? 
No — no — don’t tell me,” she added, hastily. “ You 
will have him here sometime and then you must bring 
him to call on me. Who knows, perhaps we could 
persuade him to come to Kenton.” 

“ No, no,” protested Miss Upham. “ We really 
couldn’t spare him. Mr. Benson must come to Wood- 
ville.” 

Raymond glanced at her keenly. Could she be aware, 
he wondered, of the inducements that had been offered 


THE KENTON PINES 


170 

him to make such a change. She appeared so frankly 
unconscious, however, that he promptly dismissed the 
thought. 

“What are your engagements for this evening ?” 
asked Miss Amsden. “ You will be so much in demand 
now, that I don’t suppose we shall see much of you? ” 

" Oh, I guess we shall be living our normal life again 
in a day or two,” he answered lightly. “ My engage- 
ments, to-night? Why, really, I don’t know that I 
have any very definite ones. I believe there is to be 
a bonfire and speeches in front of the Chapel in the 
early evening. After that the members of the ball team 
belonging to the three lower classes are to meet and 
choose a captain for next season. I would be very glad 
to cut them both. I am no Demosthenes, neither have 
I any candidate.” 

“ Oh, but you must surely take in the jollification 
meeting,” said Miss Amsden, hastily. “ I know the 
boys would be terribly disappointed if you didn’t. 
After that, if you choose to remain modestly away 
from the meeting of the team while they are electing 
you captain, I shall be pleased to have you call.” 

Raymond looked up quickly. He never could deter- 
mine when Miss Amsden spoke in jest and when in 
earnest. 

“ Such honors are not for Freshmen,” he said, with 
a shake of his head, “ and besides I have no aspirations 
in that direction.” 

“ Nevertheless, they will come to you,” she insisted 


A NERVE- WEARING GAME 171 

with decision. “ Good-by. Don’t disappoint me,” and 
the young ladies drove away, leaving Raymond to con- 
tinue his way to the gymnasium, from which he emerged 
a little later, refreshed and transformed. 


CHAPTER XV 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 

Raymond found Charlie Mansur waiting for him in 
his room. The tall fellow wrung his hand with impet- 
uous fervor. 

“ What did I tell you ? ” he cried, triumphantly. 
“ I was sure you’d get your chance and make good 
with it. I’m proud of you, my boy. Everything in 
sight is yours now, and if you don’t see what you want, 
just call for it.” 

Raymond smiled good-humoredly at his friend’s 
enthusiasm. 

“ You’re giving me altogether too much credit,” he 
said. “ But where in the world did you disappear to ? 
I looked for you after the game, but you were nowhere 
in sight.” 

“ I wasn’t there,” admitted Mansur, sheepishly. 

“Wasn’t there?” repeated Raymond in surprise. 

“ No, my boy, I simply couldn’t stand the strain. 
It was killing me. I never sneaked before, but my 
heart was bouncing around in my mouth for seven long 
innings. When Charlie Longley hit that little fly I 
was almost afraid for a moment that I’d lost it, so I 
swallowed it and started for home. When those cheers 
172 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 


173 


came I thought they sounded like the real Kenton 
article ; but I hadn’t the nerve to turn back. It wasn’t 
until I heard the boys holding a jubilee in the hall that 
I mustered up courage to venture out and ascertain the 
result. I tell you, old fellow, I wouldn’t go through 
such a nerve-racking experience again for a farm.” 

“ I think I should have felt just as you did if I’d 
been obliged to look on,” said Raymond. 

“No, I don’t think you would,” rejoined Mansur. 
“ You have more nerve in a pinch than I have, other- 
wise you could not have made the great showing you 
did this afternoon. Now that it is all past, and the 
pennant is securely ours, I can think it over without 
a nervous chill. I’m glad I saw as much of it as I 
did — in fact I can even wish that I had seen the whole 
of it, especially that Garrison finish, but, seriously, old 
man, much as I admire our national game, I hope I 
may never see another one like that.” 

“ You’ll feel differently after you’ve slept on it,” 
laughed Raymond. “ If we were to play another game 
here, to-morrow, you would be one of the first men to 
get into the grandstand. What is more, you would have 
a front seat, and do your full share of the cheering.” 

“Not on your life!” exclaimed Mansur, with con- 
viction. “Do you see any silver threads here?” he 
continued, raising both hands and running his fingers 
through the hair on the sides of his head. 

“ Not one,” replied Raymond, with a smile, " but 
there’s a good big field for them later on.” 


174 


THE KENTON PINES 


“If they are not there now it’s because the blight 
hasn’t had time to get in its work.” 

“ Come on ! ” said Raymond, as the deep tones of 
the Chapel bell reverberated over the campus. “ Let’s 
go to the club. I’m fully convinced that all you need 
is a good square meal to put you in fighting trim once 
more.” 

Soon after supper the stirring strains of a brass band 
were heard on the campus. In the intervals between 
the musical selections, a chorus of horns mantained an 
ear-splitting din from the dormitory windows. The 
whole campus was in an uproar. In front of the 
Chapel, in the center of the wide walk, a big bonfire 
was blazing brightly. Around this the students were 
presently gathered in force. Open landaus were pro- 
vided for members of the team, with long ropes attached 
to them for the use of the college men who were to 
furnish the motive power. 

Manager Smith opened the exercises with a brief 
speech, in which he praised the nine on their great 
work and the honor they had brought to Kenton. He 
paid a specially glowing tribute to Raymond and con- 
gratulated the college in having so strong a pitcher 
available for future contests. 

Captain Moody, who occupied a seat with Raymond, 
responded for the nine. He was evidently in a very 
mellow mood, and spoke with deep feeling. He frankly 
admitted his mistake with regard to Raymond. “ I 
wish, gentlemen,” he said, “ to take this opportunity 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 


175 


to make public apology for my failure to appreciate 
Benson. I thought his methods were wrong, and was 
unwilling to accommodate myself to his delivery. I 
know now that I was in error. I want you all to 
believe that I have always had the success of the team 
at heart; but I confess that in failing to give Benson 
the support he deserved, I allowed my prejudices to 
rule me, and made what came near being a fatal blun- 
der. I ask your pardon for it,” he added, brokenly, 
extending his hand to Raymond, who grasped .it 
warmly. 

This frank and manly speech of the big captain 
coming so unexpectedly was received with hearty cheers 
and raised him not a little in the estimation of his fellow 
students. 

The procession was then formed, and, headed by the 
band, paraded the principal streets of the village. 

The conviction had long been growing upon Ray- 
mond that Kenton and its affairs had a warm hold 
upon the hearts of the Plainsville citizens; but never 
had he seen so striking a proof of the fact as was visible 
on this occasion, when nearly all the houses along the 
line of march were specially illuminated in honor of 
Kenton’s great victory. 

The first call made was upon President Hysom, who 
lived in a large square house, with a big piazza extend- 
ing across its front, the roof of which was supported 
by a row of Gothic columns. It was situated on a 
beautiful cross street not far from the college campus, 


176 


THE KENTON PINES 


and was justly considered one of the finest residences 
in the village. 

President Hysom was a young man. Indeed he 
was not much older than some of the college under- 
graduates; but, notwithstanding his comparative youth, 
he had already established a wide reputation as a clear, 
original thinker, and a scholar of marked attainments. 
He was also a writer and speaker of rare strength and 
grace of diction. 

During the time he had presided over the affairs of 
Kenton, he had established a most creditable reputation 
as a college executive of rare ability, tact, and influence. 
He knew how to couple firmness with courtesy, and 
kept himself at all times in close and sympathetic touch 
with the young life about him. It was well known 
among the students that the President himself had been 
an athlete of no mean ability in his student days, and 
that he still took a keen interest and pleasure in this 
phase of college life. 

In response to the three cheers and a tiger that were 
given by the students, as they halted in front of his 
house, the President appeared on the piazza and spoke 
with his characteristic eloquence and good sense. 

He cordially congratulated the nine on the splendid 
showing it had made, especially in the great contest of 
that afternoon, which he declared would be destined, in 
the years to come, to be historic among the great ball 
games in which Kenton had participated. He spoke in 
glowing terms of the courage and tenacity which had 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 


1 77 


been shown by the members of the team under trying 
circumstances, and declared that the same never-say-die 
spirit of strenuous endeavor which had brought the pen- 
nant to Kenton, that afternoon, would win success in 
any walk of life. ' 

His remarks were given close attention, and warmly 
applauded by the students, after which the line of march 
was resumed. 

Calls were made on several othe^r popular members of 
the faculty, who also responded with happy speeches. 
The occasion was in all respects a memorable one in the 
athletic life of the college. 

At one of the stops Raymond managed to slip away 
from his companions, and went for a call on Miss Ams- 
den. 

He found her alone with her mother, Miss Upham 
having accompanied Charlie Mansur to an entertainment 
at the town hall. 

Both Mrs. Amsden and her daughter greeted Ray- 
mond cordially. 

“ Janet has told me all about your splendid victory 
this afternoon,” said the elder lady with a smile, “ and I 
want to add my congratulations to the many I have no 
doubt you have already received.” 

“ Thank you,” replied Raymond. “ You are very 
kind ; but I fear you are disposed to give me more credit 
than I deserve. I was only one of the nine you know.” 

“ I am afraid your friends are disposed to be more 
generous to you,” was Mrs. Amsden’s pleasant reply. 


i 7 8 


THE KENTON PINES 


A moment later she passed out of the room, leaving 
Raymond and Janet still absorbed in a discussion of the 
details of the afternoon’s game. It was evidently a sub- 
ject which he would have been very glad to avoid; but 
Miss Amsden was still too full of the spirit of the great 
contest to let him off. 

“ Do you know,” she laughed, “ Charlie couldn’t stand 
it. He confessed to me that he ran away before it was 
over.” 

“ Yes, he told me that he did,” said Raymond, “ and 
I’m not quite sure, but that I should have done the same 
thing if I had been in his place.” 

“ Well, I had no idea of doing such a thing,” she said 
brightly. “ I just knew you were going to win — and I 
was bound to see the finish.” 

“ Such faith is certainly refreshing,” laughed Ray- 
mond. “ I confess I had very serious doubts of the out- 
come at one time.” 

“ Well, you didn’t allow them to conquer you,” said 
Miss Amsden. 

There was a moment’s silence. Presently she turned 
to him and said hesitatingly : “ There was another 

thing I wanted to speak to you about, Mr. Benson. I 
don’t know that I ought to say it, but really I must tell 
you how glad I am that you didn’t go to Woodville.” 

Raymond flushed with embarrassment. 

“ And so you know about that ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, Mary told me all about it. Her brother told 
it to her in confidence.” 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 


179 


“ Which it seems she didn’t keep,” returned Ray- 
mond. 

Miss Amsden shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Oh, really,” she said deprecatingly, “ Mary knew I 
wouldn’t say anything about it — that is — of course — 
except to you,” she added with some hesitation, 

“ Oh, no harm done,” Raymond hastened to assure 
her. “ As long as I didn’t accept the offer, the Wood- 
ville people have a good deal more reason for keeping it 
quiet than I have.” 

There was a soft light in Miss Amsden’s eyes. 

“ I have been waiting to tell you, Mr. Benson,” she 
said earnestly, “ how glad I am that you acted as you 
did — especially so when — when the temptation to do 
otherwise must have been so strong.” 

Raymond turned pale. 

“You know — you have heard — ” he began 
unsteadily. 

“ Only what papa told me,” she interposed hastily. 
“ You know he has lumber interests on the Penobscot.” 

“ I am afraid things are in bad shape there,” said 
Raymond gloomily. 

“ Not so bad as they might be. The logs are there, 
and will be sure to reach a market another Spring. I 
know that Judge Prindable, who returned from Bangor 
with papa, yesterday, is planning to advance your father 
money on them if necessary.” 

“Judge Prindable!” exclaimed Raymond, in aston- 
ishment. 


i8o 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Yes. Don’t you know he is one of the dearest old 
men in the world ? ” 

“ I have reason to,” admitted Raymond. “ In fact I 
went to his house to make a confession one day last fall, 
and ended by taking dinner with him and his good 
wife.” 

Miss Amsden’s eyes danced merrily. 

“ Oh, tell me about it,” she cried. 

“ Hasn’t Charlie told you ? ” 

“ Charlie ! ” she exclaimed, reproachfully. “ Why, 
you don’t know what a sphinx that boy is on every other 
subject but himself. There, he is frankness personi- 
fied.” 

Thus encouraged Raymond gave his fair hostess a 
full account of his visit to the Squire, and the causes 
which led up to it. Miss Amsden was plainly enter- 
tained by the narrative. 

“ Isn’t that just like him! ” she exclaimed, “ and to 
think I never heard of it before. How could you keep 
it from me? ” 

“ Well, to tell you the truth,” said Raymond, “ I felt 
just a little cheap about it.” 

“ I wish Alice could know about it. Oh, mayn’t I 
write her about it? ” she asked, eagerly. 

“ Why, yes, if you want to,” assented Raymond. “ I 
can laugh at it now, but at the time I can assure you that 
I didn’t regard it altogether as a laughing matter. I 
felt awfully sore to think how those Sophomores roped 
me in.” 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 


181 


“ Oh, that reminds me,” said Miss Amsden, abruptly. 
“ Do you know Alice is coming again next fall to spend 
the whole year with us ? ” 

“ Is that so ? ” said Raymond with unfeigned pleas- 
ure. 

“ Yes. Her father and mother are going to Europe, 
and she will make her home with us during their 
absence.” 

“ I’m delighted to hear it.” 

“ I’m looking forward to her coming with a great 
deal of pleasure,” continued Miss Amsden. “ Did 
Charlie say anything to you about the Ledgy Point 
trip? ” she asked, with a bewildering change of subject. 

“ No,” replied Raymond, “ this is the first I’ve heard 
of it.” 

“ Now, isn’t that just like him?” exclaimed Miss 
Amsden in mock despair. “ I honestly believe he’d 
forget his head sometime if it wasn’t fastened so 
securely on his shoulders.” 

“ No,” protested Raymond. “ He’ll never lose that.” 

“ There he comes now,” cried Miss Amsden, as the 
front door opened to admit Mansur and Miss Upham. 
“ Come right in,” she called. “ I’ve got a bone to pick 
with you, Charlie Mansur.” 

“Wherein have I offended now?” asked Mansur 
with mock humility, as he and Miss Upham entered the 
room. 

“ You didn’t tell Mr. Benson about the Ledgy Point 
party.” 


THE KENTON PINES 


182 


“ Oh, is that all,” he said with a sigh of relief. 

“ And isn’t it enough ? ” asked Miss Amsden, 
severely. 

“ Oh, there’s time enough for that,” returned Mansur 
lightly. “ Besides I didn’t want to load too many mat- 
ters on to Raymond until he had landed the champion- 
ship for Kenton.” 

“ Well, that excuse won’t apply any longer,” was 
Miss Amsden’s prompt rejoinder. “ Perhaps you had 
better tell him now, before you forget it again.” 

“ Why, certainly,” said Mansur, turning, with a cere- 
monious bow, to Raymond. 

“ Mr. Benson, Miss Janet Amsden requests the pleas- 
ure of your company on a buckboard ride to her father’s 
summer cottage at Ledgy Point a week from next Sat- 
urday.” 

“ And Mr. Benson — ” began Raymond. 

“ One moment, please,” interrupted Mansur. “ I 
want you to know exactly what you are committing 
yourself to. The programme includes a choice assort- 
ment of salt breezes, an old fashioned shore supper, a 
dance, and a ride home by moonlight.” 

“ Now, wasn’t that well done? ” he asked turning to 
his cousin. 

“ Very well, indeed,” she said, approvingly. 

“ And I accept the invitation with great pleasure,” 
smiled Raymond. 

A few moments later Raymond and Mansur were on 
their way to their room. 


OLD KENTON REJOICES 


183 


“ This is what I call a red letter day,” said the tall 
Senior cheerfully as they neared the campus. 

“ It is certainly one I shall never forget,” responded 
Raymond heartily. 

“ By the way, old fellow, I suppose you are aware 
that a college precedent that was supposed to be as 
fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians, has been 
broken to-night. A Freshman has been elected captain 
of the ’Varsity ball team. We met Charlie Longley on 
the street, and he told us all about it.” 

“ I’m glad for him,” said Raymond heartily. 
“ Charlie is a splendid fellow, and the best player on 
the team. He will make a good captain.” 

“ That’s true enough,” laughed Mansur, “ but he is 
not the new captain.” 

“ Not Charlie! ” exclaimed Raymond. “ You surely 
don’t mean that — ” 

“ Oh, but I do,” said Mansur, “ and what’s more 
Longley is just as well pleased as if it had been him- 
self.” 

“ He deserves it far more than I do,” said Raymond. 
“ I can’t accept it, Charlie. I must resign.” 

“ You’ll do nothing of the kind, old man,” said Man- 
sur decidedly. “ The right thing has been done. The 
whole college is satisfied.” 

And Raymond held his peace. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK 

“ Isn’t this enough to drive a man crazy? ” Raymond 
turned disconsolately from the window, and, taking a 
copy of Tennyson’s poems from the table, threw himself 
listlessly upon the couch in the back part of the room. 
Outside the rain was descending in torrents. 

Mansur was sprawled out in his usual attitude before 
the fireless Standard grate. One foot rested upon the 
fender, the other hung loosely over the side of the big 
easy chair, and swinging back and forth in pendulous 
rhythm with his reflections. 

The tall Senior lowered the book he was reading, and 
looked at his roommate with whimsical commiseration. 

“Too bad, old man!” he exclaimed. “I see your 
heart was quite set on going to Ledgy Point to-day. 
Cheer up ! There’s a pleasant day coming.” 

“ It isn’t so much the postponement of the trip that 
troubles me,” grumbled Raymond, “ as trying to adjust 
myself to these new conditions. Really, I don’t know 
what can be more depressing than a rainy day.” 

“ Especially when it pours pitchforks,” sympathized 
Mansur. 

“ I stood it fairly well yesterday,” continued Ray- 
184 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK 185 

mond, ruefully, “ but it’s getting mighty monotonous. 
I was sure when I found it still pounding away, this 
morning, that the atmospheric sponge would be 
squeezed dry by noon — but, no ! It’s just fairly begin- 
ning to get under way. Looks as if we were in for a 
week of it.” 

“ You can at least find consolation in the opportunity 
afforded you for enjoying those poems,” observed Man- 
sur, slyly. “ I admire your literary discrimination.” 

“ Poems ! ” exclaimed Raymond glancing at the book 
he held in his hand. “ Oh, yes, so they are. I didn’t 
notice particularly when I picked them up — almost any 
refuge in a storm, you know.” 

“ Why don’t you write a poem,” suggested Mansur. 

“ A poem,” echoed Raymond in tones of disgust. 

“ Isn’t this a day to inspire the muse ! ” 

“ In a downward direction,” smiled Mansur. “ How 
would it do to try a little shadow poem. ‘ Life’s 
Gloom,’ ‘ Love’s Suicide,’ ‘ The Dark, Dark River,’ 
— or something equally cheerful and uplifting. I de- 
tect symptoms of the mood. In fact I have observed 
your eye ‘ In a fine frenzy rolling ’ for some time 
past.” 

“ You are a hopeless case,” laughed Raymond. 
“ Come,” he added in answer to a knock upon the door ; 
and, in response to his summons Claude Redford 
entered the room, wearing an old felt hat and a long 
mackintosh. 

“Do you dare venture out this afternoon?” 


1 86 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Yes,” cried Raymond, jumping up eagerly. 
“ Anything for a change.” 

“ Well, suppose we go over to the gymnasium and 
try the bowling alleys and the baseball cage for awhile.” 

“ Just the thing,” responded Raymond with alacrity, 
and arraying himself in storm garments he went out 
into the rain with his classmate. 

The following day, Sunday, the rain was still falling, 
with very little prospect of clearing weather. Mansur 
and Raymond made no attempt to attend church or 
chapel, and passed the day quietly in their room, devot- 
ing the time to reading and letter-writing. 

That evening as Raymond and Mansur were reading 
on either side of the center-table, there came an impera- 
tive rap at the door, and in answer to their call of wel- 
come, a peculiar-looking old gentleman of ample pro- 
portions entered the room. 

His head was large and was set well down upon a 
pair of massive shoulders. It was covered with a heavy 
head of iron-grey hair which hung down upon his 
shoulders giving him the air of an Indian doctor. His 
eyes were small, dark, and penetrating. A decidedly 
ruddy countenance, a stomach of somewhat obtrusive 
proportions, and a large diamond that sparkled on 
his expansive shirt-bosom, gave indications of high 
living. 

Raymond and Mansur glanced at him curiously as 
they rose to greet him. 

“ Good-evening, gentlemen,” he said suavely. “ I 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK 187 


believe I have the honor of addressing Messrs. Mansur 
and Benson. ,, 

The owners of the room nodded assent. 

“ I am Professor Shylark of Chicago,” continued the 
visitor. “ I am endeavoring to interest young men of 
our leading educational institutions in some very inter- 
esting experiments — in — er — I might perhaps say 
expositions of my system of Modern Psychological 
Dynamics.” 

“ What? ” gasped Raymond. 

“ You mean to say, I presume, that you are a mes- 
merist, observed Mansur, dryly. 

“ The manifestations take a vastly broader scope,” 
quickly returned the professor. “ They border more 
upon the hypnotic, and embrace the whole field of sub- 
jective psychological expression.” 

Mansur shook the proffered hand of his visitor cor- 
dially. 

“ I am delighted to make your acquaintance, profes- 
sor,” he said gravely. “ Please take a seat. I perceive 
by the clearness and force with which you express 
yourself that you are a man of experience and cul- 
ture.” 

The professor nodded his head in smiling assent to 
the soft impeachment. 

“ Raymond,” continued the tall Senior turning to his 
roommate. “ Just tell the boys in the dormitory please 
that the celebrated Professor Shylark of Chicago is our 
honored guest, this evening, and request their presence 


THE KENTON PINES 


1 88 

forthwith. Do you smoke, professor ? ” he added def- 
erentially as he handed his visitor a cigar. 

“ Ah — thanks — yes.” 

Presently both were blowing rings of smoke towards 
the ceiling — the “ Professor ” with an unctuous satis- 
faction that evinced his enjoyment of the weed. 

Mansur looked at him dreamily from his half-closed 
eyes. 

“ Do you know,” he said confidentially, “ that I never 
dreamed it would ever be my good fortune to entertain 
the great Shylark. I can scarcely make it seem pos- 
sible.” 

The professor beamed with pleasure. 

“You do me — ah — great honor — great honor, 
young gentleman. It is a pleasure I assure you to meet 
one of your gracious courtesy and keen — ah — dis- 
crimination. It isn’t always the case,” he sighed, 
regretfully. “ Students are sometimes — er — young, 
and full of spirits.” 

“ But not at Kenton, professor,” protested Mansur 
mildly. “ This is a prohibition State.” 

“ Not in that sense, oh, certainly not in that sense,” 
exclaimed the professor, hastily. “ I assure you that I 
used the term ‘ spirits ’ in the sense of — er — exuber- 
ance.” 

“ Oh,” said Mansur in a tone of relief, “ I see.” 

“ Claude,” he continued to Redford, who had entered 
the room. “ Will you kindly take Professor Shylark 
across the way and introduce him to Longley and 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SKYLARK 189 

Evans. He is a gentleman they will be glad to 
meet.” 

“ I should be delighted,” assented Claude. 

When the door had closed behind them Mansur rose 
and went quickly to the bedroom from which he 
returned presently with a long strip of tapestry carpet- 
ing. One side of this was provided with three rope 
loops in which as many strong cords were fastened. It 
was apparently a device that had seen duty at some 
society initiation. Mansur spread it carefully in front 
of the couch and separating the ropes, carried them 
back into the bedroom, afterwards covering them with 
some rugs which effectively concealed them. 

He was viewing the results of his work with some 
satisfaction when Victor Evans entered the room. The 
big Freshman wore a broad grin. 

“ Everything ready ? ” he asked. 

“Yes,” replied Mansur, lifting a rug and revealing 
his preparations. “ Where is the old boy? ” 

“ Longley is entertaining him,” laughed Evans. 
“ He won’t let him go till you give the word.” 

“ I appoint you captain of the ropes,” continued Man- 
sur, solemnly. “ You must hide yourself in the bed- 
room. “ I’ll send two of the other boys to help you. 
When I say : 4 This is certainly amazing,’ heave ho, 
hearty, and perhaps you may hear something drop.” 

“ Aye, aye, Commodore,” said Evans as he followed 
Mansur’s directions. 

A moment later the boys began to make their appear- 


190 


THE KENTON PINES 


ance. Lennox and Allston were sent to reinforce Evans 
in the bedroom, while Nye, Thurber, Harter and Day 
were seated upon the couch from which Mansur had 
stripped the pillows, throwing them with an appearance 
of carelessness on the floor in the rear of the tapestry 
rugs. 

The other members of the group were seated or 
standing about the apartment, a number of chairs being 
brought by Raymond for their accommodation from 
neighboring rooms. 

Mansur stood on the side of the room opposite the 
couch. 

Presently Longley and Redford came in with Pro- 
fessor Shylark. The corpulent visitor was evidently 
gratified at the size and expectant bearing of the crowd 
that gathered to meet him. 

“ Gentlemen/’ announced Mansur. “ It is my very 
great pleasure to make you acquainted with the distin- 
guished Professor Shylark of Chicago, who will favor 
you this evening with a few interesting — and I doubt 
not instructive — experiments in practical psychological 
dynamics.” 

The professor gave the assembled students a sweep- 
ing bow of acknowledgment. 

“ I am heartily glad to meet you, young gentlemen,” 
he said blandly. “ Have you any choice of subjects? ” 
he added turning to Mansur. 

“ Yes. I have selected the young gentlemen who are 
seated upon the couch as likely to be most receptive.” 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK I9I 


" Very well,” assented the professor. “ I take it you 
have seen experiments of this kind before ? ” 

“ Oh, several times,” admitted Mansur. 

“Now, gentlemen,” said the professor, facing the 
group upon the couch, “ it is necessary that you should 
not seek to antagonize these experiments. You, and 
those in the room with you, must co-operate in my 
efforts to insure their entire success. You must meet 
me with receptive minds. It will be necessary for the 
room to be perfectly still. Just fix your minds on some 
one thought, to the exclusion of all others.” 

“All ready! Now.” 

A breathless silence brooded over the room. 

Mansur had struck an attitude in imitation of the 
professor, the mimicry of which was so perfect that an 
involuntary titter ran around the room. 

“ Time! ” cried the professor, snapping his fingers in 
disgust. “ Really, gentlemen, it’s no use ! positively no 
use to try to accomplish results while the spirit of levity 
prevails in this room. Such an atmosphere is simply 
fatal to my experiments. Let me beg of you to over- 
come any tendency to hysteria.” 

“ Go on, professor,” said Mansur, encouragingly. 
“ Such conduct on your part is astounding, gentlemen,” 
he added, sternly. 

Once more the room became silent, and the professor 
was essaying his experiments again, when the seance 
was suddenly interrupted by the sudden and unan- 
nounced entrance of “ Dug ” Perkins, a member of the 


192 


THE KENTON PINES 


Senior class. He was arrayed in a long mackintosh 
and an old felt hat with the rim turned down, both of 
which were dripping with moisture. 

“ This man is an impostor ! I denounce him as 
such,” he cried, excitedly, pointing a long finger at Pro- 
fessor Shylark. 

“ That statement is a base falsehood, sir,” retorted 
the professor with flaming face. 

“ Why,” interposed Mansur, “ what does this mean, 
Perkins? I heard that he mesmerized you, last night.” 

“ And so I did,” asserted the professor. 

“ He did nothing of the kind — understand me!” 
rejoined Perkins fiercely. “ It was all horse play on 
our part to deceive the fellows. We made up our pro- 
gramme in advance. It was a put-up job. This man 
is a charlatan and a fake.” 

“ Gentlemen, he lies,” earnestly protested Professor 
Shylark. “ There was no put-up job about it. He 
was certainly put under hypnotic influence. What I did 
with him I can do with others, if I am given a chance.” 

It was evident that those present were not disposed 
to credit this statement. 

Perkins and the professor stood face to face glaring 
at one another, in a rage which bid fair to terminate in 
blows. 

“ This is certainly amazing ! ” declared Mansur with 
emphasis. 

There was immediately a noise that sounded like the 
scuffling of feet upon the carpet. 



Perkins and the professor rolled into one another’s 

arms — Page 1 93. 













A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK I93 

Perkins and the professor rolled into one another’s 
arms, and fell heavily to the floor. They scrambled to 
their feet white with passion. 

“ I’ll have you arrested for this cowardly outrage — 
you — you jackanapes! ” roared the professor in tones 
of thunder. 

“ Arrested ! you beet-faced old wind-bag,” gasped 
Perkins. “ Didn’t you see him assault me, fellows?” 
he demanded, turning to the members of the group. 

“ Certainly,” came the response in solemn chorus. 

The professor looked dazed. 

“ Really, gentlemen, — ” he began. 

“ See here,” interrupted Mansur, “ there’s evidently 
been a misunderstanding somewhere.” 

“ I haven’t anything more to say,” said Perkins in a 
strained voice. “If you fellows are willing to credit 
the statements of this gold brick vender, it isn’t my 
fault,” and turning on his heel he stalked stiffly from 
the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“ I believe that fellow must have been drinking,” 
announced the professor when he had gone. “ I can’t 
account for his scandalous conduct in any other way.” 

“ His appearance was certainly unfortunate for your 
experiments,” said Raymond. 

“ Certainly,” admitted the professor. “ Nothing can 
be done to-night. With your permission, however, I 
will come again, to-morrow evening, when I shall look 
for different results.” 

“ We shall be glad to see you,” said Mansur cordially. 


194 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I shall certainly be here,” declared the professor, 
as he buttoned up his long storm coat, and took his 
umbrella from the rack behind the door, “ and I shall 
hope to have you all present again. I wish you good- 
evening, gentlemen.” 

When the door had closed behind their strange visi- 
tor, Evans, Lennox, and Allston promptly made their 
appearance from the bedroom, and the whole group 
indulged in a hearty laugh at the evening’s perform- 
ance. 

“ I thought I should split to see the expression on 
Mansur’s face when he was mimicking the old boy,” 
declared Dick Harter, when he could control his voice. 

“ It was great,” grinned Lon Thurber approvingly. 

“ I thought sure Dug was going to baste him.” 

“ Oh, Dug wasn’t so anxious for trouble as that,” 
declared Victor Evans. 

“ Well we’ve probably seen the last of the great Shy- 
lark,” grinned Carl Lennox. 

“ I don’t think so,” asserted Mansur. 

“ Why not ? ” demanded Raymond. 

“ He certainly wouldn’t show his head again after 
Dug’s exposure,” declared Wendall Nye with convic- 
tion. 

“ That’s so,” was the approving comment of several 
other members of the group. 

“ You’re very much mistaken,” insisted Mansur. 
“ In my judgment there was no exposure about it. I 
think he really hypnotized Perkins. Ted Moody told 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK 


me he had him sitting on a table in his room for more 
than half an hour fishing for eels with a cane and a 
twine string.” 

“ But Dug says it was all a put-up job,” persisted 
Raymond. 

“ Yes, I know he does now,” laughed Mansur. 
“ The fellows in our class have been guying him to-day. 
I suppose he found that the professor was up here, and 
thought he’d improve the opportunity to come up here 
and square himself. I shall expect to see the great 
Shylark here again Monday night, and I want you all 
to be here, and give him a good fair chance. We’ve 
had about fun enough, I guess, at his expense.” 

Mansur was right. The following evening, Pro- 
fessor Shylark made his appearance, and this time his 
experiments were crowned with success. A substantial 
collection was taken for him, and he went away happy 
in the consciousness that he had scored a decisive vic- 
tory over the revengeful Perkins. 

The following morning Raymond was rendered 
supremely happy by a telegram from his grandfather. 
“ The freshet has released your father’s logs,” it read. 
“ Most of them already in the mam river. We are all 
well and very happy.” 

Mingled with Raymond’s joy in this message was a 
sense of reproach at his own thoughtlessness. Not only 
had he failed to perceive how much this great storm 
might mean to his father’s interests; but he had even 
grumbled at it, because it had caused him some trifling 


196 


THE KENTON PINES 


annoyances. He made a mental resolution that he 
would never again find fault with the weather. 

The same afternoon he was filled with joy by the 
receipt of an unexpected letter from Ned Grover. 

“ I have been greatly troubled since the receipt of 
your letter,” wrote his friend, “ to know just what I 
ought to do. I came here to Woodville on the very 
terms that were offered you. I did not think it was 
very wrong; but your letter has led me to view the 
matter in another light. I regret now that I did not 
tell you about it at the time — but I was pledged to 
secrecy. I know father was greatly disappointed 
because I did not go with you to Kenton. He and 
mother have worked so hard for their money that I felt 
that if I could put what they advanced me for college 
expenses at interest, and return it to them when I left 
college I should be doing them a genuine service. You 
have led me to look at the other side of the matter. The 
scholarship I have had here I feel I was fairly entitled 
to — for I have done honest work in my studies. The 
money advanced me by the baseball management I shall 
return in full. Next year, if nothing happens to pre- 
vent, I shall be with you at Kenton. I have formed 
some pleasant associations here which I shall part from 
with regret, but this I feel will be more than compen- 
sated for in the satisfaction I shall feel in being with 
you once more. Please consider this confidential. I 
feel it is due father and mother that I give them a 
frank statement of the matter upon my return home, 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK 1 97 

and I am sure they will endorse my decision to go to 
Kenton. Beyond you and them, however, I would not 
wish the matter to go. I hope to see you at Chestnut 
during the summer.” 

Raymond could not restrain an exultant shout as he 
read his letter. Ned Grover coming to Kenton ! What 
a pleasant three years stretched out before him in his 
college course. 

“ Well, I’m nearly through with you here, old boy,” 
said Mansur, a little sadly, as they sat in their room 
that evening. 

“ You have made my Freshman year very pleasant 
for me,” said Raymond, with deep feeling. “ I shall 
never forget it.” 

“ I have enjoyed having you,” said Mansur, heartily. 
“ This term completes my life here on the campus ; but 
Plainsville will not get rid of me so easily. I am plan- 
ning to come back here next February and enter the 
Mfedical department. I shall live at the Amsdens’ and 
shall hope to see you there often.” 

“ I shall be pleased to come,” said Raymond, heartily, 
“ and I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are going 
to be where I can see you often.” 

“ I suppose you will pick up a Freshman, next fall/’ 
said Mansur. 

“ No, I have just heard from my old Krampton room- 
mate — and he has decided to come to Kenton.” 

“ I’m glad to hear it ! ” declared Mansur, heartily. 
“ I know it will be very pleasant for your both. I 


1 98 


THE KENTON PINES 


fancy,” he added with a laugh, “ that you will enjoy 
pitching to him rather more than you have to Ted 
Moody.” 

The following day Raymond received a letter from 
his mother which fairly bubbled over with joy at the 
happy turn of events brought about by the big storm. 

“ We are all a very happy household,” she wrote, 
“ and your father is looking years younger. Father 
and Mother Benson insist that Clara and I shall come 
with you to Chestnut as soon as college closes, and 
spend the summer vacation with them. I think you will 
be surprised, too, to learn that your father intends to 
join us there for a good part of the summer as soon as 
he can close up a few business matters. It has been 
years since he permitted himself to take a long vacation, 
and I scarcely know how it will seem. He has, how- 
ever, felt the strain of the past few months very much, 
and I am sure it will do him a world of good. He is 
looking forward with keen interest to whipping the 
trout streams with you and Ned, and is confident that 
he can show you some good fishing holes that you didn’t 
discover the last time he was in Chestnut with you. I 
tell him he will be as much of a boy as either of you.” 

The following Saturday was bright and fair. Man- 
sur and Raymond went upon the buckboard ride to 
Ledgy Point. It was a merry party, and the occasion 
proved a most enjoyable one. The Amsden cottage 
stood on an elevation overlooking the sea, and Ray- 
mond thought he had never before seen so beautiful a 


A SEANCE WITH “ PROFESSOR ” SHYLARK I99 

view as was commanded from its broad verandas. 
After a delicious shore dinner consisting of broiled live 
lobster, and steamed clams, the dining-room was cleared 
away, and a dance indulged in. It was midnight when 
Raymond and Mansur finally reached home, and voted 
the afternoon and its pleasures an unqualified success. 

The remaining weeks of the summer term, crowded 
with events, drew gradually to a close. Raymond lin- 
gered until the afternoon of Commencement day, when, 
having bade Mansur a broken good-by, he took the train 
for his home in Bangor. 

Freshman year was over. The first milestone of the 
college course was past. Events had been kind to him, 
and he looked forward with pleasant anticipations to 
the coming years of his college course. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 

“ Well, how does it strike you, old man? ” 

Raymond Benson and Ned Grover, travelling bags in 
hand, had paused before the entrance of the Kenton 
campus, for a brief survey of its stately buildings and 
attractive outlook. As he asked this question, Ray- 
mond turned with eager pride to his companion. 

Ned did not' reply immediately. He was viewing 
the prospect with absorbing interest. Presently he 
drew a long breath. “ It’s grand/’ he answered. 

“ I knew you would say so,” cried Raymond, tri- 
umphantly. 

“ Which one of those is your room in ? ” continued 
Ned nodding towards the long line of brick buildings 
used as dormitories. 

“ That farthest one on the south. It is that second 
story room on the southwest corner — the one where 
the blinds are shut.” 

“ I should say you were well located.” 

“ There isn’t a better room in the college,” returned 
Raymond proudly. 

They strolled slowly along the broad gravel walk 
under the tall elms, while Raymond with evident satis- 


200 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


201 


faction pointed out the various buildings and points of 
interest. 

A tall, fine-appearing student met them as they passed 
in front of the Chapel. It was Kirk Farnsworth. He 
was dressed in the height of fashion, and evidently fully 
impressed with his own importance in the college. 

“ Ah ! how do you do, Benson ? ” he said with digni- 
fied cordiality, holding out his hand to Raymond. 
“ I’m glad to see you back again.’’ 

“ Thank you,” responded Raymond. “ It seems 
good to be here once more. Mr. Farnsworth,” he 
added, allow me to make you acquainted with my 
friend, Mr. Grover.” 

“ Ah, pleased to know you, Mr. Grover. Is this 
your first experience at Kenton?” said Farnsworth, 
extending his hand to Ned with a patronizing smile. 

“ Yes,” returned Ned. “ I was never here before.” 

Farnsworth lifted his eyebrows. 

“ Well, I trust your four years here may be as pleas- 
ant as I have no doubt they will be profitable,” he said 
with affable condescension. 

“ Thanks,” responded Ned dryly. 

“ You don’t understand, Farnsworth,” cried Ray- 
mond, hastily. “ Mr. Grover is in our own class. He 
comes here from Woodville.” 

For once in his life the elegant and self-contained 
Mr. Farnsworth was clearly phased. He reddened per- 
ceptibly, and was obviously mortified and disconcerted, 
by his mistake. 


202 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Oh, I — I — beg your pardon. Very stupid of me, 
I’m sure,” he ejaculated, with some confusion. 

“ Don’t mention it,” protested Ned. 

“ It’s really inexcusable in me,” insisted Farnsworth. 
“ I should have known better.” 

“ Why, have you a private mark on your Freshmen 
here? ” laughed Ned, good-naturedly. 

“ N — No,” returned Farnsworth slowly, “ but you 
know of course Mr. Grover, that experience in college is 
manifest enough to any man — that is,” he added 
hastily, “ to one who is not too careless to discern it.” 

“ I always fancied that a Freshman looked about like 
any other student,” said Raymond, irreverently, “ that 
is, if he wasn’t too young, and kept his mouth shut.” 

“ That’s just it,” returned Farnsworth, deprecatingly, 
“ but they are young, and they won’t keep their mouths 
shut. Well, I’m glad to know you, Grover,” he 
added graciously, “ and I shall hope to become better 
acquainted with you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Ned. “ What did you say that 
fellow’s name was ? ” he inquired of Raymond a 
moment later when his new acquaintance was out of 
hearing. 

“ Farnsworth,” replied Raymond. 

Ned looked at his friend closely. 

“ Seems to me you didn’t fall upon his neck to any 
extent,” was his comment. 

“ He’s not one of my intimates,” responded Ray- 
mond briefly. 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


“ What sort of a fellow is he? ” pursued Ned. 

Oh, about as you saw him. He’s one of the kind 
you find in almost every community, who persistently 
underestimate the intelligence of the people around 
them, and who are, therefore, forever at a loss to under- 
stand their own unpopularity.” 

“ In other words he is afflicted with the big head.” 

“ That’s what some people call it,” assented Ray- 
mond. 

Ned lifted his hat. 

“ Do you see any stray hayseed adhering to my 
leeks ? ” he asked, whimsically. 

“ None whatever,” laughed Raymond. 

“ Thanks,” said Ned with mock seriousness. “ To 
be mistaken for a Freshman during my first five minutes 
on the Kenton campus was just a bit bewildering, and 
somewhat unsettling to my self-assurance.” 

“ Nobody but ‘ Pud ’ Farnsworth would have made 
such a mistake,” said Raymond, reassuringly. 

By this time they had reached the south entrance of 
Abbott Hall, the dormitory where Raymond roomed. 

Allston, Harter, Evans, and Thurber, who were 
engaged in a game of tennis on the handsome clay court 
that stretched away in line with the entrance to the 
building, suspended their play, and came forward 
with a vociferous welcome for Raymond. They were 
promptly introduced to Ned, whom they greeted cor- 
dially and Raymond flushed with pleasure at the obvi- 
ously favorable impression his friend made upon them. 


204 


THE KENTON PINES 


Following these introductions they made their way 
to the room, which had been cleaned and put in order, 
preparatory to their coming. 

“ How do you like it?” asked Raymond anxiously, 
when Ned had looked it all over. 

“ It’s great,” was the enthusiastic rejoinder. “ I 
thought I had a good room at Woodville last year, but 
it simply didn’t touch this. You see I wasn’t sure how 
long I might stay there, so I didn’t lay out much for 
furnishings. How about these things here?” 

“ Mansur left his half on my hands to dispose of,” 
replied Raymond, “ and you can have whatever you 
want of them on very reasonable terms.” 

“ Well, I guess I might as well take his whole outfit,” 
said Ned. “ Do you know I’m mighty glad you have 
an open grate here. I don’t know of anything more 
cheerful.” 

“ Mansur and I spent some very pleasant evenings 
before it last winter,” returned Raymond. “ I am very 
anxious to have you meet him, Ned. He’s one of the 
best fellows in the world. He’s coming back into the 
Medical department in February.” 

“ I shall be glad to know him,” responded Ned 
heartily. 

Raymond had returned to Kenton with his old friend 
at the close of a most happy summer vacation passed 
on his Grandfather Benson’s farm in Chestnut. His 
stay there had been rendered specially enjoyable by 
Ned’s constant championship, and by the presence of 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 205 


his parents and sister Clara. His father had entered 
with hearty zest into the pleasures of the long vacation. 
In company with Raymond and Ned he fished all the 
available trout brooks with old-time zeal and enthu- 
siasm. He had, as he laughingly expressed it, “ re- 
newed his youth,” and become, as his wife declared, the 
most boyish boy of them all. Not only had the trout 
brooks been fished successfully, but several very pleasant 
camping parties had been planned and carried out, in 
which Raymond’s mother and sister had participated, 
and which had contributed not a little to the pleasure of 
the summer. Among these had been a very successful 
three days’ blueberry picking expedition to the “ plains” 
at Letter K. 

Ned had been untiring in his attentions to Clara 
Benson, and a strong friendship had grown up between 
them. 

The summer had not, however, been wholly a play 
day. Raymond and his father had assisted Grand- 
father Benson through the haying season, and Ned had 
done faithful work during the same period on his 
father’s farm. 

About the middle of July a fine four-seated buckboard 
had arrived from Bangor for Raymond’s father and 
on it a number of pleasant trips had been enjoyed about 
the neighboring country. Old friendships had been 
renewed and many invitations accepted to visit hospita- 
ble neighbors. 

Both Raymond and Ned had come to Kenton at the 


206 


THE KENTON PINES 


beginning of their Sophomore year, well browned from 
their summer’s outing and in the best of health and 
spirits. 

They had barely cleaned up from their journey, and 
stowed away their trunks which an express team had 
brought for them, when they received a call from Char- 
lie Longley. 

“ How are you, old man ? ” he cried, cordially grasp- 
ing Raymond’s hand. 

“ Well, so as to be out,” laughed Raymond, “ and 
how are you ? ” 

“ Never felt better in my life, and tickled to death 
to be back with the boys again,” replied Charlie. 

“ Mr. Longley, let me make you acquainted with my 
old friend, Mr. Grover,” continued Raymond, turning 
to Ned who had come out from the bedroom. 

“ Glad to meet you, Mr. Grover,” said Charlie, cor- 
dially extending his hand. “ I’ve heard Raymond 
speak of you so often that I feel as if I knew you 
already.” 

“ I was about to say that same thing myself,” 
laughed Ned, “ but I’m always a little slow in getting 
under way.” 

Longley shook his head. 

“ I can scarcely credit that,” he smiled. “ I watched 
your record with the Woodville ball team last term, and 
there was certainly nothing slow about that.” 

“ Records don’t always signify,” rejoined Ned. 

“ I’m very sure they do in your case,” insisted Char- 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


lie. “ I want to say, Mr. Grover, that our class and 
the whole college will have a warm welcome for you. 
I don’t believe that you will ever regret that you came 
to Kenton.” 

“ I’m very sure I'll not,” said Ned. “ I am begin- 
ning to feel quite at home here already.” 

“ I’m glad, too, that you are a member of our society. 
The Kenton Chapter will be delighted to have you with 
it.” 

“ Raymond is somewhat responsible for my choice of 
a society,” said Ned. 

“ Did he fish you? ” 

“ Well, not exactly. You see I was on the fence for 
awhile; but when he wrote me that he had joined Beta 
Mu Kappa I lost no time in getting down on that side. 
They have a fine chapter at Woodville.” 

“ What sort of a Freshman class have we?” inter- 
rupted Raymond. 

“ It’s a large one at any rate,” returned Longley. 
“ As a matter of fact I haven’t had much chance to size 
them up yet. There are a good many large men in it. 
Looks as if there might be some good material there — 
especially in football. I have also heard of several 
promising baseball players. It’s a little early yet to get 
a line on them though. We can tell better after we have 
tried them out.” 

“ I suppose they are a trifle raw now,” said Ray- 
mond, critically. 

“ Yes, of course they’ll need some pruning,” assented 


208 


THE KENTON PINES 


1 

Longley, judicially; “but I think we shall be able to 
make something of them in the end. That means sup- 
per,” he added as the deep tones of the Chapel bell rung 
out upon the campus. 

A few moments later they were making their way 
through the pines to the chapter house a short distance 
from the college grounds where the Beta Mu Kappa club 
was located. Here Ned was introduced to the members 
of the fraternity, and received a greeting so cordially 
hearty that he was at once made to feel entirely at home. 

“ It is evident that I shall be in the house of my 
friends there,” he said, nodding back over his shoulder 
towards the chapter house, as he and Raymond were 
walking home after supper. “ I tell you a fellow can’t 
help being gratified at a greeting like that.” 

“ The college generally will have the same greeting 
for you, old man,” returned Raymond promptly, and 
he was right in the assertion. 

Ned came to Kenton under more favorable auspices 
than his roommate. Not only did he enter as a mem- 
ber of th£ Sophomore class — thus escaping the tribula- 
tions of Freshman year — but he came with the great 
prestige of a well-established reputation as an athlete, 
secured in another and larger college. 

His class was proud of him, and the students gener- 
ally hailed him as a decided acquisition to the athletic 
and social life of the college. Not only this, but his 
genial and unaffected manner, his ready sympathies, his 
manly, straightforward bearing, and the high rank he 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 20g 

speedily attained in his studies, soon won him the con- 
fidence and esteem of the whole Kenton community. 

He immediately made his presence felt in the annual 
contests between the Sophomore and Freshman classes. 
He showed his metal almost at the very start by carry- 
ing away the football which, in accordance with custom, 
was thrown among the Sophomores as they filed out of 
Chapel, Wednesday morning, by some member of the 
Freshman class. 

The scramble for this trophy was a spirited one, and 
Ned’s quick and wiry work in securing it, heightened 
the respect which was entertained for him by his new 
classmates. 

His popularity was further enhanced by the fine work 
he did the following Friday afternoon in the annual 
class football contest. He and Raymond were always 
in the brunt of the struggle, which was stubbornly con- 
tested on both sides. The Freshmen outnumbered the 
Sophomores, but superior organization, and the weight 
of greater athletic experience, enabled Captain Lennox 
and his men to win a decisive victory, after more than 
an hour of the hottest kind of play. 

The Freshmen won the rope-pull the following day, 
by their superiority in weight and numbers — although 
the result was considerably delayed by a stratagem of 
“ Wes ” Jarvis, who was on the end of the line for the 
Sophomores, and who made the Freshmen exert a large 
amount of surplus effort by slyly tying the end of the 
rope around a tree which grew beside the Chapel walk. 


210 


THE KENTON PINES 


The judge who saw the whole performance permitted 
several “ dead heats ” to be pulled for the edification of 
the grinning upper-classmen, before he finally ordered 
the rope to be untied and gave the perspiring Freshmen, 
who were not a little chagrined at the discovery of the 
trick that had been played upon them, the chance to 
score a well-earned victory. 

The same afternoon the baseball game betwen the 
two lower classes was played on the Wentworth ath- 
letic field. The college attended in force, impelled very 
largely by a desire to see Ned Grover, whose reputation 
as a college catcher had preceded him at Kenton, handle 
Raymond’s swift delivery. It was generally predicted 
that the Freshmen would be sadly outclassed, and such 
proved to be the fact. 

Raymond was in his element and the opposing bats- 
men could do nothing with his delivery, while Ned’s 
clean back-stopping and hard, accurate throwing, called 
forth frequent and enthusiastic applause. While there 
was little for the Sophomore fielders to do they acquitted 
themselves very creditably on the few chances that 
came to them. Longley and Redford in particular dis- 
tinguished themselves by making difficult plays. 

While it was evident that the incoming class was not 
likely to shine with special brilliancy in baseball circles, 
there were several men on the team whom Raymond 
felt sure would develop into ’Varsity material. 

In football, however, the newcomers bade fair to 
make a specially good showing, many of them being 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


21 1 


strong, heavy men, who had seen considerable experi- 
ence in the game at their preparatory schools. 

Raymond wisely decided that with a team composed 
largely of veteran players it would not be advisable to 
undertake any baseball practice during the football sea- 
son. 

He was impelled to this decision also by the desire 
of himself and Ned to participate in the practice of the 
’Varsity eleven, which had been sadly depleted by the 
graduation of six of its strongest players in the previous 
summer, and therefore, offered exceptional opportuni- 
ties for new men to make positions upon it. 

Raymond and Ned were strongly urged by Carl Len- 
nox and Victor Evans, both of whom had played upon 
the team the preceding year, to participate in the prac- 
tice, and a personal request of the same nature which 
came from Captain Bixby of the ’Varsity, met with a 
prompt assent. 

Raymond was coming out of the post-office one after- 
noon near the close of the second week of the term when 
he met Janet Amsden. 

“ I almost began to fear that you had gone to Wood- 
ville,” she cried roguishly, extending her hand, cor- 
dially. “ Where have you kept yourself the past 
fortnight ? ” she added, reproachfully. 

“ I have scarcely been off the campus/’ responded 
Raymond, apologetically. 

“ I suppose the Freshman class is a great care/’ she 
naively insinuated. 


212 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ 'Well — yes/' he admitted. “ Besides there are the 
usual fall contests you know, and, incidentally, a little 
studying to be done.” 

“ Oh, I know you must be awfully busy,’' was the 
response, “ but you mustn’t quite forget your old 
friends. Alice is back with me again.” 

“ I’m glad to hear it.” 

“ And that interesting Mr. Grover — your old 
Damon, or was it Pythias? — so he really came to 
Kenton after all?” 

“You seem to be well posted on current college 
news,” laughed Raymond. 

“ Better I imagine than some of you suspect,” she 
answered, smiling. “ You must bring Mr. Grover to 
call on us at the first opportunity. You know that was 
an old understanding of ours.” 

“ I haven’t forgotten it,” said Raymond. “ How 
would it be if we were to come Saturday evening? 
Have you any engagement for that time?” 

“None whatever — and we should be very glad to 
see you.” 

“ What do you hear from Charlie ? ” 

“ He’s at home with his father. You know, I sup- 
pose, that he is studying medicine with one of the lead- 
ing physicians of his town ? ” 

“ He wrote me he was intending to do so.” 

“ Well, he’s finally settled down to it. He writes us 
that he is counting the days until the time comes for 
him to return to Plainsville, and I might almost say 


THE BEGINNING OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


that we are doing the same at home. We shall be so 
glad to have him with us again.” 

A new thought lit up her face, and turning to Ray- 
mond with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes, she 
asked abruptly : 

“ Have you done any hazing yet? ” 

“ Not a mite,” protested Raymond, quickly. 

“Not even ducked a luckless Freshman?” she per- 
sisted. 

“ No, not one,” returned Raymond. “ I see you 
haven’t forgotten my callow Freshman days,” he added 
with a furtive grin. 

“ But that was so very long ago,” she said, demurely. 
“We were all young once.” 

Raymond shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I see you’re not going to permit me any illusions,” 
he said, deprecatingly. 

“ Oh forgive me ! ” she cried, hastily. “ I did not 
mean to be sarcastic.” 

“ Don’t speak of it,” said Raymond. “ I’m not so 
thin-skinned as to take a little pleasantry that way.” 

“ I thought so,” said Miss Amsden with evident 
relief. “ And did you enjoy your vacation at Chest- 
nut? ” she asked with an abrupt change in the subject. 

“ I never had so pleasant a summer in my life,” 
returned Raymond with enthusiasm. “ And you? ” 

“ We were at Ledgy Point all summer. Charlie and 
Alice both were with us through August. We had a 
perfectly delightful time.” 


214 


THE KENJON PINES 


They had walked along the street together as they 
talked, and paused for a moment at the cross street 
which led to the Amsdens\ 

“ Good-by,” said Janet as they parted. “ Remember 
I shall look for you Saturday evening — and don’t 
forget to bring Mr. Grover.” 

Raymond walked back to his room with quickening . 
pulses. 

The Plainsville skies had never looked so fair to him. 
He was conscious of a growing affection for the old 
town, and an increasing satisfaction in his life at Ken- 
ton. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


EPISODES OF THE SOPHOMORE FALL AND WINTER 

“ Hold ’em, Kenton ! Hold ’em ! ” 

The big grandstand on the Wentworth athletic field 
was black with Kenton students and their friends, who 
frantically cheered on the Kenton eleven in a desperate 
struggle with the Case team. It was the last game of 
the season, and the interest in it was greatly intensified 
by the fact that upon the outcome of it depended the 
championship of the College league. Starting in with 
six vacancies to fill, the outlook for Kenton at the 
opening of the season had been far from flattering, and 
Captain Bixby, in his most sanguine moments, had not 
permitted himself to believe that he could build his team 
up to championship form in the short time available for 
practice. It is the unexpected, however, that frequently 
happens in college athletics, and the task that confronted 
Captain Bixby at the start, was materially lightened by 
several fortunate circumstances. The Kenton coach — 
a former Harvard star — proved to be an exceptionally 
good man for the position ; and the new material which 
came out, in response to the captain’s call, surpassed his 
expectations. 

In Raymond Benson and Ned Grover he found 
215 


2l6 


THE KENTON PINES 


unlooked-for elements of strength. While he had 
known, in a general way, that both of them had played 
football at Krampton, he had never appreciated, until 
he saw them work out in actual practice, how valuable 
had been the coaching and experience they had enjoyed 
in their preparatory school. 

They played with the confidence and skill of veterans, 
and were soon recognized as fixtures on the ’ Varsity 
squad, where Ned played at right end and Raymond at 
fullback. 

The Freshman class also had some exceptionally 
strong men possessing both weight and quickness who 
were not without experience, and who enabled Captain 
Bixby to make up a line that was rather heavier and 
faster than the one of the previous year. Instead, 
therefore, of the weak team that had been predicted for 
Kenton, that college was able to swing into the cham- 
pionship series with an exceptionally strong eleven. 
There were six championship games — two with each 
of the opposing elevens, and now the Case and Kenton 
teams, each with a record of four victories and one 
defeat, were engaged in a fierce and final struggle for 
the championship. The Kenton sympathizers were 
gathered for the most part in the big grandstand, while 
the Case contingent were principally grouped on and 
about the bleachers at the opposite side of the field. 

Each crowd was cheered on to its utmost endeavors 
by the vociferous enthusiasm of its supporters and 
the inspiring strains of its college band, while cheer 


EPISODES OF THE SOPHOMORE FALL AND WINTER 2iy 

answered cheer with defiant ring. It was evident to all 
that the game was being fought “ for blood/’ Up and 
down the field swayed the sturdy lines of perspiring 
players, now one side and then the other seeming to 
have the advantage. The closing minutes of the first 
half, however, found the Case players dangerously near 
the Kenton goal. By persistent line bucking they had 
gradually forced the ball to Kenton’s fifteen-yard line, 
and were making a desperate effort to force it to the 
goal line. 

“ Hold ’em, Kenton ! Hold ’em ! ” 

There was a desperate appeal in this call of the Ken- 
ton sympathizers, and it met with a gratifying response. 
Kenton’s defence stiffened with dogged determination. 
Twice the Case players hurled themselves upon its 
sturdy line without gain. At this point the Case quar- 
terback changed his tactics. Finding it impossible to 
make distance through the Kenton line he signaled for 
a drop kick by Emerson the fullback, who went back to 
receive the ball. The long pass from the center was a 
poor one. Before Emerson could get the ball away, a 
stocky Kenton player dashed past the Case halfback, 
who was endeavoring to protect the play, knocked the 
ball to the ground as it left the fullback’s foot, and, 
gathering it cleanly upon the bound, before the players 
of either team fully realized what had happened, was 
racing madly towards the Case goal with a clear field. 

“ G — R — O — V — E — R! rah! rah! rah!” 
shouted the Kenton sympathizers in an exultant chorus, 


2l8 


THE KENTON PINES 


and Kenton stock, which had been on the decline, was 
immediately at a premium. 

Unfortunately, however, Ned, although one of the 
clearest-headed and most reliable players on the Kenton 
team, and fairly quick on his feet, was not specially con- 
spicuous as a sprinter. Despite his best efforts he was 
downed on Case’s twenty-yard line by the fleet-footed 
and desperate Emerson, in a beautiful running tackle 
from behind. 

From this point the Kenton players endeavored to 
force the ball down the field by fierce line bucking, but 
the Case team held them firmly, and the blowing of the 
referee’s whistle in the midst of the second rush closed 
the half without a score on either side. 

The players, wet with perspiration, and panting from 
their exertions, made their way to their dressing rooms 
under the grandstand, and the college bands improved 
the opportunity to indulge in rival concerts, which were 
varied, at the close of each selection, by college songs, 
and by a vociferous interchange of college yells. 

As the players again made their appearance upon the 
field, at the beginning of the second half, the Kenton 
band struck up “ Hail to the Chief,” while the Case 
musicians played “ Lo, the Conquering Hero Comes.” 
This musical contest speedily developed into a medley 
which was so much a test of lung power, rather than an 
expression of harmony, that the pent-up feelings of the 
spectators found relief in an uproarious burst of 
laughter. 


EPISODES OF THE SOPHOMORE FALL AND WINTER 219 


The second half of the game speedily developed into 
a fast and furious struggle, in which “ slugging ” was 
freely charged against their opponents by the adherents 
of both teams. Near the close of the half the Case 
captain succeeded in breaking through the Kenton line, 
and, aided by splendid interference, started quickly 
down the field towards his opponents’ goal. A gasp 
of dismay broke from the Kenton sympathizers, and 
shouts of “ Benson ! Benson ! ” rang over the field, for 
Raymond alone stood between the racing Case player 
and the Kenton goal. The runner attempted to side- 
step and pass him, but the ruse was ineffective, and a 
mighty cheer went up from the Kenton contingent as 
Raymond, diving fiercely, downed the Case captain on 
the fifteen-yard line. 

At this point the Kenton line held firmly, and, secur- 
ing the ball on downs, advanced it by a series of line 
plunges and end plays, finally forcing it over the Case 
goal line for a touchdown. Captain Bixby failed in his 
attempt to kick a goal, but it was of little consequence, 
as the game closed without further scoring, and the 
championship rested securely with Kenton. 

“ I’m glad it’s all over,” declared Ned as he and 
Raymond, with mud-stained suits and perspiring faces, 
made their way through the pines to their room at the 
close of the game. Behind them came the clamorous 
cheers of the exultant Kentonites — a tumult that was 
presently swelled by the ringing of the Chapel bell. 

“ I don’t know,” said Raymond, in response to his 


220 


THE KENTON PINES 


roommate’s remark. “ We’ve had a good time — and 
while this tumult isn’t exactly harmony, still it’s mighty 
pleasant music.” 

“ To the Kenton ear,” added Ned, with a laugh. 
“ Our Case friends probably regard it as an entirely 
needless discord.” 

“ Yes,” admitted Raymond. “ The point of view 
makes quite a difference in our appreciation of things.” 

“ I’m going to cool off a minute before I wash up,” 
said Ned, with a sigh of relief, as he threw himself into 
the big easy chair on entering their room. 

“ Come on, old lazybones ! ” called Raymond from 
the bedroom. “ Let’s get into our purple and fine linen 
without delay. I think I can do full justice to an 
early supper.” 

“ I reckon there’ll be a few loaves and fishes left for 
me,” said Ned, carelessly. “ Give her my regards, old 
man.” 

“Her? Your regards? What do you mean?” 
demanded Raymond, pausing in the doorway, towel in 
hand. 

“ Why, Miss Amsden,” laughed Ned, lazily. “ You 
did not suppose I thought you capable of keeping away 
at such a time, did you ? That game will never be truly 
finished for you, old boy, until you have a chance to 
talk it over with her.” 

“ Ned, you are certainly a wizard,” laughed Ray- 
mond. “ Your surmise is correct. I had planned to 
call on Miss Amsden after supper, and I should be 


EPISODES OF THE SOPHOMORE FALL AND WINTER 221 


glad to have you go with me. Alice is there, you 
know.” 

“ Thanks! ” said Ned, dryly. “ So I’m to keep her 
out of your little tete-a-tete, am I ? Really, I think you 
do her a gross injustice. I am sure that she has a sup- 
ply of discretion that will be found equal to the occa- 
sion.” 

“I’m not questioning that,” replied Raymond. “ I 
was simply thinking that perhaps she would enjoy the 
evening a little better herself if she had a chance to talk 
over the game with the battle-scarred hero who blocked 
Captain Emerson’s drop kick. I saw her on the grand- 
stand waving a Kenton flag, and I know she fully 
appreciated that notable play.” 

“Thanks!” said Ned, dryly. “I didn’t suppose 
your range of vision was so inclusive. Seriously, old 
boy, I’d like to accommodate you. I appreciate the 
several very pleasant evenings you have given me at the 
Amsdens’ this term — ” 

“ You must thank Miss Amsden for them,” Inter- 
rupted Raymond. “ She asked me to bring you.” 

“ It was on your account, however,” declared Ned. 

“ No. It was on your own,” insisted Raymond. 

“ Well, I’m too tired to dispute you,” laughed Ned. 
“ I’m sure I’ve been royally entertained by your lady 
friends, and I’d be glad to go with you, only — ” 

“ Only what ? ” interrupted Raymond, impatiently. 

“ Well, you see — in fact — to tell it just as it is, old 
man — I don’t feel quite equal to a contest of wits with 


222 


THE KENTON PINES 


Alice Mercer. She usually has me distanced on the 
second quarter.” 

“ You’ll feel better when you’ve had something to 
eat,” declared Raymond, cheerfully. “ In view of your 
notable achievements this afternoon I should expect you 
to be in a favorable position to more than hold your 
own with Miss Alice.” 

“ I expect that, like ancient Samson, neither of us 
will be as strong when we have indulged in the luxury 
of a hair cut,” observed Ned, irrelevantly. 

“ Undoubtedly,” acquiesced Raymond. 

“ ’ Nuff said. I’ll go,” laughed Ned, as he rose, 
yawningly, to his feet, and made his way to the bed- 
room. “ It is sometimes necessary to turn a deaf ear 
to the siren voice of indolence,” he added. 

Two hours later Raymond and Ned were on their 
way to the Amsden house, where they were cordially 
received by the young ladies and passed a very pleasant 
evening. 

Soon after the close of the football season the fall 
term came to an end. As there was only a week’s vaca- 
tion, Raymond and Ned decided to remain at Plains- 
ville, and aided by several very pleasant social events, 
among which was a delightful straw ride to General 
Amsden’s cottage at Ledgy Point, they succeeded in 
passing away the time in a most enjoyable manner. 

They also improved the opportunity to review some 
of their college work, for, however much they excelled 
in athletics, and keen as was their enjoyment of this 


EPISODES OF THE SOPHOMORE FALL AND WINTER 22 3 


phase of the college life, they did not permit themselves 
to neglect their opportunities, or to lose sight of the seri- 
ous purposes of their course. Both did honest work in 
their studies, and took a worthy pride in standing well 
up in their class. 

With the opening of the winter term new interests 
engrossed the attention of Raymond and Ned. To be 
sure there was the daily hour of practice in the gym- 
nasium; but as members of the baseball squad were 
excused from the required class drills, this was no 
additional burden to them. The Juniors conducted a 
series of Germans during the term, which were attended 
by quite a number of the Sophomores, Raymond and 
Ned among the others — the former in company with 
Janet Amsden and the latter with Alice Mercer. The 
close of the term saw a souvenir of these very pleasant 
occasions in their study in the form of the Greek 
letters “ Beta Mu Kappa,” worked out in favors above 
the door leading to the bedroom. They were, as 
Ned whimsically called them, “ trophies of the chase.” 
Both boys took a more or less active part in the work 
of their fraternity and the meetings of the college 
debating society; but, as a whole, the term was devoid 
of special incident, and, for the most part, given over, 
as Raymond expressed it, to “ a continuous perform- 
ance of dig and grind.” Mathematics, in the form 
of Peck’s Analytical Geometry and Calculus, was the 
occasion of many groans and anathemas, even Ned 
Grover, who was usually looked upon as a conserva- 


224 


THE KENTON PINES 


tive, going so far as to express the solemn opinion that 
it was “ an abomination unto the Lord.” 

There was a ripple of excitement among the mem- 
bers of the Calculus class, one winter morning when 
they made their way into the recitation room to find 
the blackboards plentifully besmeared with lard. Broad 
smiles greeted this situation. It really looked as if 
nothing could prevent an “ adjourn.” Professor Car- 
ter, however, rose grandly to the occasion. He made 
no reference to the condition of the blackboards, but, 
calmly unlocking his desk, produced some paper tab- 
lets and lead-pencils. These were made to serve as 
substitutes for the blackboards, and the members of 
the class were put through an inspection and drill that 
was exceptionally sweeping and thorough — much to 
the discomfiture of several of them, who evidently had 
not anticipated such an outcome to the episode. As 
a whole the efforts of certain members of the Sopho- 
more class to evade recitations during the winter term 
were so futile as to subject their authors to much good- 
natured chaffing from their classmates. 

Next to Mathematics, the study of Greek was the 
greatest college burden that rested upon the Sopho- 
moric shoulders during the winter term. The small, 
weazened old gentleman, with piercing dark eyes, and 
long, black beard, who presided over this department, 
was known to undergraduate nomenclature as “ The 
Owl.” He was a scholar of unquestioned attainments, 
but of a somewhat choleric disposition, and a tendency 


EPISODES OF THE SOPHOMORE FALL AND WINTER 225 

to sarcasm — which should always be avoided by a 
teacher — had not made him a favorite among the 
undergraduates. One morning when the Sophomores 
came into his recitation room, they found the atmos- 
phere laden with a most nauseating odor, which was 
soon found to come from some assafcetida with which 
some one had “ loaded ” one of the registers. 

“ I perceive that some philanthropic spirit has under- 
taken to disinfect this class,” suavely remarked “ The 
Owl,” as the Sophomores filed into their seats. He 
paused, and scanned the grinning countenances before 
him with his piercing black eyes. It certainly looked 
as if an “adjourn” were inevitable; but, after a 
moment’s pause, the professor opened up his text-book, 
and remarking in a tone of soliloquy, “ Well, I guess 
we can stand it if he can,” placidly proceeded with the 
recitation. 

It was more than a fortnight before the last linger- 
ing traces of that frightful odor disappeared from the 
Greek room, through the tedious process of evapo- 
ration, and long before that time the members of the 
class were fully persuaded — with one possible excep- 
tion — that nothing short of lynching would be an 
adequate punishment for the perpetrator of the outrage. 

Another morning “ The Owl ” and the class reached 
the recitation room at about the same time to find it 
already occupied by a small but exceedingly active pig. 
The professor called the class to order without appar- 
ently noticing the intrusion, and opening his text-book 


226 


THE KENTON PINES 


to the day’s lesson, remarked, blandly, “ I perceive 
that a new member has joined your class, gentlemen. 
Permit me to express the hope that he may attain at 
least as high rank in this study as some of his asso- 
ciates.” 

The pig was promptly turned loose upon the campus, 
where his owner soon came for him. Unfortunately 
for the Sophomores, the upper-classmen had learned 
of “ The Owl’s ” comment, and it became an instant 
source of college merriment. It was many a day 
before the Sophomores heard the last of it — and it 
would have been an exceedingly daring student who 
would have invited the certain results of their wrath, 
by undertaking a similar joke upon “ The Owl.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE RESULTS OF A FRESHMAN INSURRECTION 

“We might just as well close up shop and get out 
of Plainsville if we let this matter go unnoticed/’ 

It was big Carl Lennox who expressed himself in 
these emphatic terms to a flushed and angry group 
of Sophomores, who had gathered about the South 
entrance of Abbott Hall immediately following Chapel 
exercises. 

“ You’re right “ That’s so “ Sure “ Count 
us in,” were some of the expressions of approval that 
greeted this announcement. 

“ Tell you what, fellows,” interposed Victor Evans. 
“ We’ve used these Freshmen so mighty well they’ve 
got it into their heads that we’re afraid of them.” 

A chorus of approval followed this statement. 

“ You’re just right, Vic,” declared Raymond Ben- 
son. “ They’ve mistaken courtesy for cowardice.” 

“ The trouble with them is an aggravated attack of 
big head,” asserted Jack Carroll. 

“ That’s it ” — “ That’s right,” assented his class- 
mates. 

“ It’s a mighty dangerous microbe to be abroad in 
a college community,” solemnly asserted tall Sam Day. 


228 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ It calls for immediate antiseptic treatment,” 
declared Wes Jarvis, with conviction. 

“ And a laying on of hands,” supplemented Dick 
Harter, grimly. 

“ It was bad enough for them to remain sitting all 
through prayers — ” began George Baker. 

“ Did you ever hear of such crust ? ” interposed 
Milton Floyd. 

“ Never,” admitted Baker, promptly; “ but when 
they came out on the Chapel steps,” he continued, 
“ and gave three cheers for the Freshman class, and 
three groans for the Sophomore class, I thought that 
was the — the — ah — ” 

“ Limit,” prompted Ben Allston. 

“ That’s what it was,” declared Baker with emphasis. 

“ But are you quite sure, George, that it was the 
Freshmen who gave the groans for our class?” asked 
Ned Grover, who had hitherto been a silent listener to 
the excited comments of his classmates. 

“Sure? Of course I am,” declared Baker with 
warmth. “ Didn’t you hear them ? ” 

“ I’m not certain,” returned Ned, slowly. “ I heard 
them cheer for their own class — there wasn’t any- 
thing so very bad in that; but I’m very sure it was 
Tom Kidder of the Junior class who called for the 
groans for our fellows.” 

“ I think you’re right, Ned,” said Charlie Longley, 
with quiet conviction. “ I’m quite certain I heard 
Ben Perley’s voice leading the chorus. I think about 


THE RESULTS OF A FRESHMAN INSURRECTION 229 


all the groans — which were weak enough at best — 
came from a little gang of Juniors.” 

“ They’d like mighty well to stir up trouble if they 
could/’ declared Jim Rayner. “ They’ve had a good 
deal to say all the year about our failure to revive old 
Chi Phi, and properly maintain the time-honored cus- 
toms of old Kenton.” 

“ I think they’re right,” interposed Kirk Farnsworth, 
who evidently did not like the turn the conversation 
had taken. “ Perhaps Kidder and Perley did take a 
hand in those groans; but I know that most of them 
came from the Freshmen. Good Lord! Don’t you 
suppose I’ve got ears ? ” 

“ Yes — generous ones,” admitted Lon Thurber, a 
comment that called forth a burst of laughter, to 
Farnsworth’s very evident discomfiture. 

“ That’s one on you, Pud,” grinned “ Buster ” 
Bailey. 

“ There are some would-be wits who make me 
exceedingly tired,” growled Farnsworth, very red in 
the face. 

“ And some who give us all a pain,” retorted Bailey. 

The deep tones of the Chapel bell cut short this 
somewhat personal colloquy. 

“ One moment, fellows ! ” called Claude Redford, 
the Sophomore class president, from the top of the 
steps that led to the dormitory. “ It seems to me 
that we want to consider this whole matter carefully. 
Whatever action we take, if any, should be taken as 


230 


THE KENTON PINES 


a class. I wish, therefore, to announce that there will 
be a class meeting at the close of the Mathematical 
recitation. I hope every member will remain and take 
part in it.” 

This announcement was received with expressions of 
approval, and a moment later the class was assembled 
in the Mathematical room, under the watchful eye of 
Professor Carter. 

The occasion of the above noted conference on the 
part of the Kenton Sophomores had been a seemingly 
inexcusable breach of college custom, which had been 
committed by the Freshman class at the morning 
Chapel exercises, and which the Sophomores — as the 
traditional guardians of such customs, so far as the 
Freshmen were concerned — had chosen to regard as 
a personal affront. College traditions and college 
customs are exceedingly tenacious, and not easily 
dethroned. This was specially true, during Raymond 
and Ned’s course at Kenton, of those usages which 
touched upon class standing and privilege. Among 
the unwritten laws at Kenton was one which decreed 
that Freshmen should always rise and remain standing 
during prayers at Chapel exercises. Upper-classmen, 
while they usually did so as a mark of respect to the 
faculty, were privileged, if they so desired, to remain 
seated during the entire services. This privilege did 
not extend, however, to members of the Freshman 
class. On the morning of the Sophomore conference, 
already noted, the Kenton undergraduates were dazed 


THE RESULTS OF A FRESHMAN INSURRECTION 23 1 

and astounded to see the members of the Freshman 
class as a body remain calmly seated throughout the 
Chapel exercises. Such an exhibition of “ monumental 
nerve ” — as some of the upper-classmen characterized 
it — had not been seen at Kenton for many years. 
It was the rankest and most ostentatious kind of 
insubordination. To the upper-classmen it appeared as 
a most studied challenge and insult to the members of 
the Sophomore class, and that the members of that 
class so regarded it has already appeared from their 
excited comments upon the affair immediately follow- 
ing the close of the services. 

The amazing “ brashness ” of the Freshmen had 
not stopped with the startling show of insubordination 
during prayers. As they filed out of Chapel, in the 
rear of the older classes, they had gathered about its 
broad stone steps to give three cheers for their class. 
This was followed by a call for three groans for the 
Sophomores, which, however, were decidedly weak, 
indicating a disposition on the part of most, if not all, 
of the Freshmen not to carry the spirit of defiance to 
such an extreme. The excited and angry Sophomores 
were not in a mood, however, to make nice distinctions, 
and an air of impending trouble brewed over the college 
to an extent which led many of the Freshmen to regret 
their own temerity. 

Many of the upper-classmen — of the Kidder and 
Perley stripe — had been secretly yearning for some- 
thing in the way of excitement, and they made the 


232 


THE KENTON PINES 


most of the opportunity thus afforded to impress the 
Sophomores with the magnitude of the “ insult ” to 
which they had been subjected. The old hazing society 
Chi Phi was dead. Nothing remained of it but its 
stirring war song, which was still sung with much 
gusto by the undergraduates at all gatherings of impor- 
tance, and its traditions, which were still handed down 
to newcomers with devoted zeal by members of the 
Senior and Junior classes. Early during their Fresh- 
man year, the members of the Sophomore class — 
largely through the influence of Raymond Benson and 
Charlie Longley — had decided that the defunct Chi 
Phi should be permitted, so far as they were concerned, 
to sleep, unresurrected, in the grave to which the 
growth of a broader and more tolerant college spirit 
had consigned it. 

To be sure the Freshmen had been favored, during 
the fall term, with the customary “ horn concert ” — 
and had responded with commendable docility to the 
stentorian shouts of “Lights out, Freshie!” that had 
punctuated the clamorous march around the college 
dormitories; but no serious results had come from the 
observance of this time-honored custom. 

Aside from this the Freshmen had been treated with 
a degree of courtesy and consideration that was some- 
what unprecedented, and distinctly distressing to cer- 
tain of the upper-classmen who sighed aloud for “ the 
good old days ; ” and who “ refused to be comforted 
because they were not.” 


THE RESULTS OF A FRESHMAN INSURRECTION 233 

These facts combined to make the offense of the 
Freshmen all the more serious in the estimation of the 
Sophomores, and led Ben Perley, who had lingered 
about the outside of the Mathematical room at the close 
of the morning recitation, in order to “ get a line ” on 
the Sophomore class meeting, to report gleefully to big 
Tom Kidder that there would surely be “ something 
doing.” 

It was certainly a somewhat grim and determined 
group of young men who faced President Redford 
when he called them to order at the close of the Mathe- 
matical recitation. 

“ I have called this meeting, gentlemen,” he said, 
“ in order that we may give proper consideration to 
the remarkable performance of the Freshman class at 
this morning’s Chapel exercises. The Chair awaits 
your pleasure.” 

“ Mr. President,” said Wendell Nye, rising slowly 
from his seat. “ It seems to me that the conduct of 
the Freshmen cannot possibly be regarded in any other 
light than that of a deliberate challenge to our class. 
It was a studied expression of their contempt for us. 
It is very evident that they have mistaken our courtesy 
for cowardice, and our forbearance for lack of spirit. 
I think the time has come to depart from the policy 
we have thus far pursued, and give these bumptious 
youngsters a much needed lesson.” 

As Nye took his seat, Sam Day rose slowly to his 
feet. “ Mr. President,” he said, gravely, “ I quite agree 


234 


THE KENTON PINES 


with the last speaker in his opinion that the Freshmen 
should be made to wear smaller-sized hats. In order 
for them to do this, it is necessary that the size of their 
craniums should be reduced immediately. I move you, 
sir, that the task of effecting such reductions be dele- 
gated to Brother Nye.” 

A shout of laughter greeted this covert reference to 
Nye’s slight physique and lack of militant qualities, 
during which, Day, his naturally dolorous countenance 
as impassive as ever, quietly resumed his seat. 

“ Mr. President,” — there was a dominant note in 
Raymond’s voice that commanded the instant attention 
of his classmates — I do not believe in delegating to 
Brother Nye or anyone else a duty that belongs to the 
Sophomore class as a whole, even though he has shown 
us, on at least one notable occasion, that he is nowise 
lacking in the courage necessary to the undertaking that 
has been suggested for him.” 

This reference to Nye’s part in saving the class foot- 
ball rush in Freshman year, called forth a hearty round 
of applause. It was evident that the small but nervy 
Sophomore was a prime favorite with his classmates. 

“ It looks to me,” continued Raymond, “ as if the 
position of our class — its standing rather — here at 
Kenton is seriously at stake. I agree with Brother 
Nye that the action of the Freshman class, this morn- 
ing, was a deliberate challenge to us, and we must either 
take some notice of it or we will merit, and I have no 
doubt receive, the contempt of the whole college.” 


THE RESULTS OF A FRESHMAN INSURRECTION 235 

Raymond was followed by Kirk Farnsworth. 

“ I quite agree,” he declared, “ with what has already 
been said on this matter; but it seems to me if we are 
to secure the best results it is very necessary that we 
should proceed in an orderly manner. We must not, 
above all things, overlook the value and importance of 
careful organization. The first thing, it seems to me, 
that we should do in this connection is to revive old 
Chi Phi. We can then lay out our plan of campaign 
and carry it through in such a thorough and systematic 
manner as will insure us against any future recurrence 
of this morning’s outrage.” 

The coldness with which this suggestion was received 
showed that it did not appeal to the members of the 
class, and Farnsworth resumed his seat with a very 
red face, and an air of disgust. ’ 

“ I don’t agree with the last speaker,” declared Charlie 
Longley, who followed Farnsworth. “ It seems to me 
that it is extremely important at this time that we do 
not lose our heads, or do anything rash. Above all 
things, I should be opposed to any step backward in 
the college life. It may be that the Freshmen need a 
lesson. If so, I think our class associations, which have 
carried us creditably through the contests of two years, 
will afford all the organization necessary. Certainly 
I do not believe that we should gain added effectiveness 
by banding ourselves together under a new name.” 

“ We could at least show a little red blood,” scorn- 
fully interposed Farnsworth. 


236 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ You mean bad blood,” retorted Longley sharply. 
“ If there is any Chi Phi business connected with this 
affair, I tell you now that you may count me out of it.” 

“ I guess we could survive,” sneered Farnsworth. 

“ Shut up ! ” “ Simmer ! ” “ Go chase yourself ! ” were 
some of the impatient comments that greeted this 
remark, and Farnsworth, finding himself in a decided 
minority, rose to his feet, his face white with passion. 

“ I wash my hands of the whole matter,” he cried, 
angrily. “ This class never had the spirit of a yellow 
dog. The Freshmen flaunt you and the rest of the 
College ridicule and despise you — and you haven’t 
sand enough to resent it. Do what you please. I’m 
through with you,” and he strode angrily out of the 
room, followed by the jeering laughter of his class- 
mates, during which Longley resumed his seat. 

“ It looks to me, fellows,” said Victor Evans, rising 
in his place, “ as if we were wasting our time. All 
this discussion isn’t cutting any ice. I think we are 
agreed that we don’t want to revive Chi Phi, and also 
that something should be done — and done at once — 
to bring the members of the Freshman class back to a 
condition of sanity. To bring the matter to a head, 
I move you, sir, that Carl Lennox be chosen as class 
captain to plan and direct such measures as may be 
necessary to bring about this result, and that we meet 
at his room at eleven o’clock, to-night, prepared to 
carry out any programme he may suggest.” 

The motion was put, and carried with great enthu- 


THE RESULTS OF A FRESHMAN INSURRECTION 237 

siasm, after which the class adjourned to meet again 
at the appointed time and place. 

Eleven o’clock found them assembled again at Len- 
nox’s room, which, with the adjoining bedroom, was 
packed nearly to its full capacity. It was evident that 
all the members of the class were present, with the 
exception of Kirk Farnsworth — who was conspicuous 
by his absence. 

When the last member, with this exception, had put 
in an appearance, Lennox called the class to order, and 
briefly explained the plan of operations he had outlined. 

“ In the first place, fellows,” he said, “ I don’t want 
any rough house to-night — that is, of course, if it can 
be avoided. One thing is certain, though, whatever 
we say on this trip, we’ll do — peaceably if possible; 
forcibly, if necessary. At the same time I want the 
members of the class to exercise a reasonable amount 
of caution and self-control. Under no circumstances 
must anything be done that will cause physical injury 
to any Freshmen we may visit, and if my plans are 
carried out, we shall call on quite a number of them 
between now and daylight.” 

A sudden murmur of applause greeted this announce- 
ment. A moment later the line, in columns of twos, 
made its way quietly along one of the familiar campus 
walks towards the North end of Abbott Hall. 

“ This whole business seems just a bit cowardly to 
me,” whispered Ned Grover to Raymond Benson, who 
walked beside him. 


238 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Cowardly — why ? ” demanded Raymond in sur- 
prise. 

“ The idea of a gang like this swooping down on two 
Freshmen. It doesn’t give them anything like a fair 
chance.” 

“ That’s what the small boy, who stole the cherries, 
said of his father when he thrashed him for it,” 
responded Raymond, dryly. 

“ Oh, so this is a parental visit — is it?” chuckled 
Ned. “ I appreciate the force of your comparison.” 

A moment later the head of the column, which had 
quietly climbed the stairs to the third floor of North 
Abbott Hall, came to a halt in front of a room occupied 
by Scruton and Delby, two members of the Freshman 
class. 

Stepping up to the door, Lennox rapped an impera- 
tive summons with the end of a heavy cane which he 
carried. 

“ What’s wanted ? ” asked a sleepy voice from within, 
after a moment’s silence. 

“ Open up, Freshie,” sharply responded Lennox. 

There was no response to this portentous demand, 
and, after a moment’s waiting, Lennox turned to Victor 
Evans, who stood beside him. “ Turn the knob, Vic,” 
he said, grimly. 

Evans did as directed, and a moment later the door 
with a broken lock swung quickly in, impelled by a 
sharp kick from Lennox’s foot, and the long line of 
Sophomores filed ominously into the room. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 

The faint rays of the dark lantern carried by Milton 
Floyd swept slowly about the big study room, but 
revealed no trace of the Freshmen. 

“ They’re in the bedroom,” declared Lon Thurber 
with conviction, a suggestion that proved correct, as 
Scruton and Delby were discovered, a moment later, 
snugly ensconced beneath the blankets of their bed. 
Both were large, powerful fellows, who had played in 
the line on the football eleven during the fall term. 
Not only were they exceptionally good athletes, but 
they were also among the most popular and influential 
members of their class. It was, doubtless, on account 
of their prestige, in class and college, that Lennox had 
singled them out as the first Freshmen to be called upon 
in the night’s visitations. 

“ To what are we indebted, gentlemen, for this very 
early morning call ? ” asked Delby, coolly, as the rays 
from the dark lantern revealed the crowd of Sopho- 
mores by his bedside, and massed in the shadows of 
the study beyond the door of the sleeping apartment. 

“ We simply couldn’t keep away from you? ” briefly 
responded Lennox. 


239 


240 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Yes, we received your pressing invitation, this 
morning, and came as soon as our other engagements 
would permit,” added Dick Harter. 

“ I am sorry that we did not anticipate this visit,” 
said Scruton, rising upon his elbow on the back side 
of the bed. “ As it is you’ve taken us entirely by sur- 
prise. We’ve had no chance to employ a caterer, secure 
an orchestra, or provide other entertainment.” 

“ There is no occasion to apologize, gentlemen,” said 
Lennox. “ You can furnish all the entertainment neces- 
sary. There is not the slightest need of a caterer or 
an orchestra. We have all dined, and every one of us 
would much prefer vocal to instrumental music.” 

The significance of this statement was not lost upon 
Delby and Scruton, who resolutely closed their mouths 
and lay back upon their pillows without further com- 
ment. 

“ Come,” said Lennox, briskly. “ This is no way 
to entertain visitors — especially when they’ve taken 
so much pains to cultivate your society. A course of 
etiquette has been added to the Kenton curriculum, and 
we’ve come to hear you recite in it.” 

“ Thanks!” returned Delby, grimly. “You’re very 
kind.” 

“ Don’t mention it ! ” suavely responded Lennox. 
“ And now, gentlemen, we must trouble you to get up 
and come out into the other room.” 

“ I suppose an opportunity will be given us to dress? ” 
questioned Delby. 


THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 24I 


“ No/’ returned Lennox, decisively. “We will waive 
all little formalities of that character/’ 

“ Just as you are — 4 without one plea,’ ” softly 
quoted Lon Thurber. 

“ Silence ! ” commanded Lennox, sternly. 

“ I’m dumb,” meekly responded Thurber. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” continued the Sophomore cap- 
tain, turning to the two Freshmen, “ may I trouble you 
to comply with my request? ” 

“ Thanks ! ” returned Delby, curtly. “ We’re very 
comfortable right where we are.” 

“Do you refuse to get up?” demanded Lennox. 

“ I said we were very comfortable where we are,” 
doggedly repeated Delby. 

“ Go out into the hallway, fellows, and bring in that 
smallest tub of water,” commanded Lennox, turning 
to the grinning group of Sophomores behind him. 

“ Hold on, gentlemen. We’ll get up,” hastily inter- 
posed Scruton. “ What’s the use, Del ? ” he added to 
his roommate. “ They’ve got us by the hair. It’s no 
use to buck.” 

“ I observe that you are a very sensible young man,” 
said Lennox, approvingly. 

“ I surrender,” announced Delby, in a tone of resig- 
nation. 

A moment later the two Freshmen, arrayed only in 
their night-robes, were standing by the tall Stewart 
stove in the big sitting room. A study table had been 
cleared of its burdens and drawn into the center of the 


242 


THE KENTON PINES 


room. Upon this Floyd had focussed the rays of his 
dark lantern, leaving the corners of the room in the 
shadow, and presenting, with the grouping of students 
about the apartment, a scene at once weird and pic- 
turesque. 

“ May I trouble you, Mr. Scruton, to take your stand 
upon this rostrum?” said Lennox, placing a chair by 
the side of the table, and turning to the taller of the 
two Freshmen. Scruton promptly complied with this 
invitation, and faced his grinning inquisitors with a 
forced and sickly smile. 

“ Hail, Caesar ! Hail ! ” came in chorus from the 
Sophomores. 

“ Hail, noble Dukes ! ” promptly returned Scruton — 
a response so unexpected that it caused an audible titter 
to run through the crowd. 

“ Mr. Scruton,” announced Lennox, with ceremoni- 
ous dignity, “ you are honored — greatly honored, sir, 
by this visit from the Sophomore class.” 

“ I am quite overcome by it,” returned Scruton, with 
mock humility. 

“ Doubtless ! ” briefly returned Lennox, “ and, such 
being the case, you will of course take genuine pleasure 
in doing all in your power for the entertainment of your 
distinguished visitors.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” responded Scruton. 

For the first time the faint suspicion of a smile 
relaxed Lennox’s rugged features, but he resolutely 
banished it. 


THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 243 


“ We’ll have no levity, please,” he said, sternly, turn- 
ing to his giggling classmates. “ Please bear in mind, 
gentlemen, that this is a solemn occasion.” 

He paused, and a hush of expectancy fell upon the 
crowd. 

“ Now, Mr. Scruton,” continued Lennox, turning 
again to the table, “ will you kindly tell us an interest- 
ing and entertaining story about Biddy and the bear ? ” 

“ Couldn’t I substitute a song ? ” asked Scruton. 

“ No,” returned Lennox, with formal dignity. “ I 
think we shall have to insist upon the story.” 

“ Very well,” acquiesced Scruton. “ Anything to 
please you, gentlemen. Once there was a bear — a 
big brown bear with — er — big teeth and a — a — ” 

“ Long curly tail,” prompted Phil Graham. 

“ Thanks ! yes, a long curly tail.” 

“ He lived — ” 

“ Resided,” corrected Jack Carroll, sternly. 

“ Beg pardon ! ” said Scruton. “ He — er — resided 
in a — a — ” 

“ Thicket,” suggested Jim Rayner. 

“No,” said Scruton, “a cave — a cold — er — 
smoky — er — ” 

“ Clammy,” interposed Wes Jarvis. 

“ Exactly ! ” responded Scruton, gratefully, “ a 
clammy cave.” 

At this point Lennox brought his cane down upon 
the end of the table with a resounding whack. 

“Silence!” he thundered. “I object to these con- 


2 44 


THE KENTON PINES 


stant interruptions. I shall insist that our gracious 
host be permitted to tell this story in his own inimitable 
way, clothing it in his own ready and flowing diction, 
and drawing solely for his illustrations — and of course, 
Mr. Scruton, we shall look for copious illustrations — 
upon his wealth of imagery and rich powers of analogy. 
Proceed, sir. What further about the bear ? — and 
don’t, I beg of you, forget Biddy.” 

“ This bear,” resumed Scruton, “ lived, as I said, in 
a — a — cave.” 

“ One moment, Mr. Scruton,” interposed Lennox. 
“ Your narrative thus far, has been a trifle too serious 
in its tone and character. Please put a little wit in 
it — and above all things don’t overlook Biddy.” 

“ With your permission, gentlemen,” continued Scru- 
ton, “ I think I’ll make sure of the old girl by intro- 
ducing her at this point.” 

“ You mean the fair maiden,” sternly interrupted 
Lennox. “ You should speak with respect, sir, of 
your elders.” 

“ Beg pardon ! ” said Scruton. “ As I was saying, 
near the cave, where dwelt the bear to which I have 
already alluded, resided a most estimable — though 
somewhat ancient — er — maiden fair by the name of 
— of Biddy O’Flaherty. One blustering — er — June 
morning, while she was engaged in hanging out her 
wash, she observed the bear bounding gaily along the 
highway in all the innocent abandon of an untroubled 
conscience. He had slept soundly through the night, 



“This beau lived, as I said, in a — a — cave.” — Page 244. 





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THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 245 


and had permitted all other bears — so far at least as 
he was concerned — to do the same.” 

“No reflections, please,” interposed Lennox, with 
dignity. 

“ Certainly not ! Of course not ! ” responded Scru- 
ton, deprecatingly. 

“ I think on the whole we’ve had enough wit in this 
story,” added Lennox. “ You may now, if you please. 
Mr. Scruton, inject a little pathos into it.” 

“ With pleasure ! ” cheerfully returned Scruton. 
“ When Biddy saw the bear approaching she was 
scared quite blue. Great scalding tears rolled down 
her dusky cheeks.” 

“ One moment, Mr. Scruton ! ” interposed Lennox. 
“ Let us have no misunderstandings about this matter. 
Are we to infer that Biddy was a colored lady?” 

“ Certainly not ! Certainly not ! ” protested Scru- 
ton. “ She was simply sun-burned — er — simply a 
nut-brown maiden, I assure you, gentlemen.” 

“ Proceed,” said Lennox, graciously. “ I simply 
asked for information, and with no desire to draw the 
color line.” 

“ She naturally thought that her last day had come,” 
resumed Scruton, “ but, fortunately, at that harrowing 
moment an inspiration came to her — yes, gentleman, 
an inspiration, for she perceived, hanging by the shed 
door of her humble domicile, a large salt sack and the 
remnants of a ham. There was also a piece of tarred 
rope. It took Biddy but a moment to place the mouth 


246 


THE KENTON PINES 


of the bag about a hole in the fence. In the far end 
of it she — er — ah — sequestered the ham. On came 
the bear, with panting breath and dripping jowls. 
Lured on by the superior smell of the ham — which 
was somewhat older than Biddy — he plunged reck- 
lessly — not to say — er — heedlessly and headlong — 
into the bag. Biddy rose — er — ah — ” 

“ Grandly,” prompted Lennox. 

“ That’s it — grandly to the occasion. In the twink- 
ling of an eye, like a streak of greased lightning, she 
tied up the mouth of the bag with the tarred rope, and 
had old bruin securely caged.” 

“ You mean bagged,” corrected Ned Grover. 

“ I accept the gentleman’s amendment,” said Scruton. 
“ Bagged he was.” 

A hearty round of applause greeted this development 
of Scruton’s story, which he acknowledged by placing 
his right hand over his heart and making a low bow. 

“ Of course,” he concluded, “ it was but the work of 
a moment for Biddy to seize the axe from the wood- 
pile and beat out the brains of the imprisoned bruin. 
The adventure turned out to be a very fortunate one 
for her. The skin of the bear was an exceptionally fine 
one, and she succeeded in selling it to a taxidermist for 
forty dollars. This, with the ten dollars of bounty 
money which she received from the State, enabled her 
to pay off the mortgage on her small farm, and pass the 
declining years of her industrious life in comparative 
peace and comfort.” 


THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 247 


“ Has anyone any criticism to pass upon this story ? ” 
inquired Lennox, turning to his classmates. “ I will 
ask Mr. Harter to express the judgment of the audi- 
ence.” 

“ It seems to me, Mr. Chairman,” returned Harter, 
“ that it is justly due the brilliant author to concede 
that his story — while not by any means lacking in 
faults of construction — was on the whole a work of 
positive genius — a genuine literary and forensic gem. 
The plot was wholly unconventional, the movement 
spirited, and the outcome satisfactory. While the 
humor bade fair, at the start, to be a little too rollick- 
ing — not to say boisterous, it was so soon tempered, 
and — ah — neutralized, by the succeeding vein of 
pathos, that the effort as a whole was not inartistic.” 

“ Is it the pleasure of the class to accept the criticism 
of Brother Harter ? ” asked Lennox. “ It is a vote,” 
he added, without waiting for a response. “ Pray be 
seated, Mr. Scruton,” he continued, placing the chair 
which had served for “ steps to the rostrum ” upon the 
table. 

The perspiring story-teller lost no time in accepting 
the invitation. 

While Scruton had been entertaining his Sophomoric 
audience, Delby had remained standing sullenly by the 
stove. As the fun proceeded his temper began to rise, 
and, suddenly stooping, he reached for a big iron poker 
which lay upon the floor at his feet. Just what might 
have happened, had he succeeded in securing it, can 


248 


THE KENTON PINES 


only be conjectured, for Delby, with his stocky build, 
quick motions, full chest and broad shoulders, was 
one of the most powerful students at Kenton. 

Raymond Benson, however, who stood beside him, 
saw the act, and promptly frustrated it by stepping 
upon the poker. As Delby straightened up, a little 
shamefaced, Raymond laid a quiet hand upon his 
shoulder. He had played on the football team with 
the stocky Freshman, and their personal relations had 
been of the most friendly character. 

“ Don’t get hot, Del,” he cautioned in a low voice. 
“ You have nothing to gain by it.” 

Delby turned and looked him in the face. “ All 
right,” he whispered. “ I guess that’s good advice.” 

When the bear story was finished, Lennox turned to 
Delby. 

“ While your roommate is resting from his fatiguing 
literary efforts we should be greatly entertained to see 
you climb over this,” he said, swinging the door to the 
bedroom into the study. 

Delby lost no time in complying with this request, 
the ease with which he accomplished the feat evoking 
a faint ripple of applause from the audience. He was 
materially assisted, however, by Raymond Benson, who, 
unnoticed by his classmates had steadied the door by 
holding his foot against it at the bottom while Delby 
was scaling it. The Freshman had noticed this and 
expressed his appreciation of it in a low “ thanks,” as 
he dropped to the floor. 


THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 249 

In the corner of the room, at the head of the couch, 
stood a banjo. This had been one of the things to 
attract the special attention of Lennox when he first 
entered the room. At the conclusion of Delby’s door- 
scaling feat the big Sophomore captain turned again 
to Scruton. “ In view of your literary efforts,” he 
announced, 44 we will excuse you from all athletic stunts. 
Do you play that? ” he asked, pointing to the banjo. 

“A — a very little,” reluctantly admitted Scruton. 

“Ah! I see. Naturally a trifle modest about your 
own attainments,” said Lennox, cheerfully. 

“ 4 Born to blush unseen/ ” murmured Sam Day, in 
audible tones that elicited a snicker from his classmates. 

44 If you will kindly take a seat upon the couch and 
strike up something lively, I assure you we shall greatly 
appreciate it,” pursued Lennox, in smooth, even tones. 

44 IT1 do my best,” responded Scruton, as he descended 
from the table and took the indicated seat. 

44 Very kind, I’m sure,” returned George Baker, sen- 
tentiously. 44 Angels could do no more.” 

Scruton struck up a stirring air on the banjo, but 
before he had proceeded far Lennox motioned him to 
stop. 

44 It’s really too bad,” announced the big captain, 44 to 
permit such truly delightful music to go to waste. 
Mr. Delby, will you oblige us by taking your place 
upon the table, and dancing a suitable accompaniment 
to Mr. Scruton’s stirring strains? Proceed, Scruton,” 
he added, waving his hand at the musician. 


250 


THE KENTON PINES 


The tall Freshman started in upon his banjo again, 
and his roommate executed what purported to be a 
dance upon the table. Several of the Sophomores, who 
were so carried away by the exhilaration of the scene 
as to pound their canes upon the end of the table and 
shout “faster,” were sternly reproved by Captain Len- 
nox, and the performance came to a close without 
mishap — notwithstanding one or two indications of 
incipient rebellion on the part of Delby. 

The plucky fellow would probably have refused point- 
blank to carry out the instructions of the Sophomore 
captain had it not been for an encouraging nod which 
was given him by Ned Grover, who had played beside 
him on the ’ Varsity football eleven, and for whom he 
had a sincere respect. 

“ The song and dance number is now completed,” 
declared Sam Day, solemnly, as, in response to a motion 
from Lennox, the music ceased, and Delby, flushed and 
perspiring, descended from the table. 

“ This also concludes the first part of our pro- 
gramme/’ announced Captain Lennox. “ Gentlemen/’ 
he added, turning to the white-robed Freshmen, “ I beg 
to express to you, in behalf of myself and my class- 
mates, our sincere appreciation of your very generous 
hospitality and your unselfish and highly successful 
efforts to provide us with suitable entertainment. In 
bidding you good-by, allow me to assure you of our 
highest consideration, and wish you pleasant dreams.” 

The procession then formed in line again, and 


THE SOPHOMORES ON THE WAR-PATH 25 1 

marched solemnly down the stairs in search, as Ned 
Grover remarked to Raymond, of “ fresh fields and 
pastures fair.” 

The dawn was already breaking when Captain Len- 
nox and his followers wearily made their way to their 
own rooms, having “ done ” a considerable section of 
the Freshman class. The programme in each instance 
had been similar to the one pursued in Scruton and 
Delby’s room. There was speechmaking, door-climb- 
ing, story-telling and singing, while one or two Fresh- 
man ringleaders had been specially humiliated in being 
made to “ run the gauntlet ” by crawling along the floor 
upon their hands and knees between the legs of a strad- 
dling line of Sophomores. 

The next issue of the “ Kenton Clarion ” contained 
some “ chronicles ” which summarized the night’s pro- 
ceedings as follows: 

“ The darkness was upon the face of the earth, even 
the night was as a mantle, when the Sophs went forth 
like unto destroying angels, and terrible were they as 
an army with banners. And they did violence unto the 
tents of the people of Fresh, yea, the portals of their 
habitations did they desecrate. For, clothed in white 
raiment, did the Fresh perform, and the scantiness of 
their skirts was for a shame unto them. The lyre and 
the timbrel did they juggle, the doors of their dwellings 
did they bestride like unto horsemen, and they lifted 
up their voices in song.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 

“ I don’t just like the situation, Ned.” 

Raymond stood, irresolutely, in the outer doorway of 
their study room and addressed this remark to his room- 
mate, who was seated before the open fire with a book in 
his hand. 

“ What’s the trouble?” demanded Ned, glancing up 
in evident surprise. 

“ Didn’t you hear what Kirk Farnsworth just said,” 
asked Raymond, a little incredulously. 

“ I can’t say that I did,” admitted Ned. “ I was 
somewhat absorbed in my reading and paid no attention 
to what you were saying. As a matter of fact the opin- 
ions of Mr. Farnsworth carry little weight with me.” 

“ He called to notify me of a jury meeting in the office 
building this afternoon,” announced Raymond. 

Ned laid aside his book and looked at his roommate 
with new interest. 

“ Well, what of that? ” he demanded carelessly. 

“What of that?” repeated Raymond, impatiently. 
“What’s the use to be so unconcerned, Ned? You 
know very well. It’s our raid on the Freshmen.” 

“ I don’t see anything to worry about on that score,” 
252 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 


253 


declared Ned. “ If they should send home those of us 
who had a hand in that affair Kirk Farnsworth would 
graduate at the head of his class. He would be the 
Sophomore Alpha and Omega.” 

Raymond’s features relaxed into a smile. 

“ I think the jury would forgive us Ned, rather than 
to contemplate such a contingency,” he laughed. 

“ I’m willing to take my chances, in view of the situa- 
tion,” responded Ned, lightly. 

“ But don’t you see, Ned,” continued Raymond, his 
face clouding again, “ that I’m in a very different posi- 
tion from the other members of the class ? ” 

“ Why?” 

“ Because I’m on the jury, and will be until we hold 
our Sophomore class election.” 

“ You represent our class there, don’t you? ” 

“ Yes, but not for the purpose of winking at its 
offenses, Ned; not to be dishonest — and certainly not 
to sit in judgment upon my own misdemeanors.” 

“Bosh!” exclaimed Ned, impatiently. “You’re 
altogether too sentimental and — and technical, Rame. 
Didn’t those Freshmen need a little polishing? Hasn’t 
it done them a world of good ? What misdemeanor was 
there in our giving it to them ? There’s no occasion for 
any apologies on our part, and if the jury is composed of 
the sensible fellows I think it is, it will not condemn us 
for what we have done.” 

“You can’t understand! You don’t see, Ned,” pro- 
tested Raymond, in genuine distress. “ I’ve no apology 


254 


THE KENTON PINES 


to make for what we did to the Freshmen, but I know 
that it was an open defiance of the college rules and 
regulations. How can I, who bore a part in it all, serve 
on the jury while the matter is being tried out? ” 

“You certainly would have the great advantage of a 
clear knowledge of all the facts/’ insisted Ned, “ and, 
being on the jury, would be in a position to correct any 
wrong impressions that might exist among its members. 
Don’t do anything rash or foolish, old man. Stay with 
your class, and at least see that its cause is fairly consid- 
ered by the jury. That’s what you’re there for. 
There’s a special reason for such a course at this time.” 

“ What’s that?” 

“ Why, the only other member of our class on the 
jury this year is Kirk Farnsworth, who represents his 
Greek letter fraternity. You know how he feels 
towards the class just now. He’s out of joint with all 
of us since he flung himself out of that class meeting, 
and in spite of all his warlike talk, he was the only one 
of our members who took no part in straightening out 
the Freshmen. He’s sulky now, and so thoroughly 
erratic in his mental processes that no one can tell what 
cant he may try to give this investigation.” 

“ I should hate to believe him capable of any injustice 
to his own classmates,” protested Raymond. 

“ He’s capable of anything where his personal pride 
is affected,” insisted Ned, stoutly. “ Take my advice 
for it, Rame, and stay with the jury — at least until 
the testimony is all in.” 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 


255 


“ Perhaps you’re right,” admitted Raymond. 
“Still — ” 

“ Still what? ” demanded Ned, impatiently. 

“ I guess I’d better talk it over with some of the fel- 
lows.” 

And putting on his hat, he left the room. 

The jury system at Kenton was devised by Professor 
Carter. It consisted of a tribunal of undergraduates — 
one from each of the four classes, and one from each of 
the Greek letter fraternities — and into its hands were 
given all matters of student discipline. The jury had 
the power to reprimand, suspend, or, in extreme cases, 
to expel, with the approval of the faculty, students 
whose conduct made them amenable to such punishment. 

When Raymond reached the back room of the Treas- 
urer’s office, which served as a meeting place for the 
jury, he found the members of that body already assem- 
bled around the long table that extended midway of the 
apartment. At the foot of this table sat Dr. Hysom, 
the President of the college. 

When Raymond had taken his seat, Foreman Penton 
arose in his place at the head of the board and rapped 
the meeting to order. 

“We are here today,” he said, “ to consider, at the 
request of Dr. Hysom, certain matters which he desires 
to place before us. Dr. Hysom, gentlemen.” 

As the President of the college rose to speak, the 
members of the jury wheeled their chairs and faced him 
with courteous deference. 


256 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I wish, gentlemen,” he said, “ to call attention to the 
indignities recently inflicted upon a number of our 
Freshmen by certain members of the Sophomore class 
— indignities that were accompanied, in a number of 
instances, with the destruction of college property. I do 
not believe that you, as the chosen representatives of the 
undergraduates of Kenton, clothed with full authority 
to deal with the situation, will in any way countenance 
or condone such acts of vandalism. I am fully aware 
that the Sophomores claim to have had special provoca- 
tion, first, in the failure of the Freshmen to observe an 
unwritten law which requires the members of that class 
to rise and remain standing during the prayer at the 
Chapel exercises; second, in the alleged giving of three 
groans for the Sophomores, by the Freshmen, after they 
had passed out of the Chapel. 

“ We must consider the first of these alleged offenses, 
in the light of our organization as a college community. 
The undergraduate world at Kenton, in its social rela- 
tions, is, to all intents and purposes, a little republic 
wherein each citizen has precisely the same rights and 
privileges as every other citizen. It was to emphasize 
this fact, that our present jury system was established, 
and the preservation of student rights placed in the 
hands of this tribunal acting, in a representative capac- 
ity, for all undergraduates. I appreciate very fully the 
force of unwritten law in a student community, and how 
strong is the influence of college traditions, and yet, gen- 
tlemen, I would specially call your attention to the fact 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 


257 


that a custom or tradition that would impose upon any 
members of the student body conditions not equally 
binding upon all other members, is contrary to the spirit 
and purpose of our organization. Such distinctions 
should not, and must not be tolerated. The members of 
the Freshman class have precisely the same rights and 
privileges in the social life of Kenton as are enjoyed by 
the members of the other classes, and it is your duty to 
see that they are protected in them. Courtesy growing 
out of long established custom requires the students at 
Kenton to rise and remain standing during the prayer 
at Chapel exercises. There is not, however, and has 
never been anything compulsory about this. It is a mat- 
ter that rests wholly with the individual student. The 
Freshmen are under no more obligation to observe it 
than are the members of the other classes. The conten- 
tion of the Sophomores, therefore, that the action of the 
Freshmen in remaining seated during the prayer, Mon- 
day morning, was an insult and a challenge to their class, 
is untenable. 

“ As regards the alleged groans for the Sophomores 
immediately following Chapel exercises, there appear 
to be conflicting claims. There seems to be no doubt 
but that a few such groans were given. The Sopho- 
mores assert that they came from the Freshmen; but this 
is emphatically denied by the Freshmen, who declare 
they emanated from certain Juniors who were intent on 
stirring up trouble between the two lower classes. It 
will rest with you to ascertain the truth of this matter, 


258 


THE KENTON PINES 


and to deal with it as, in your judgment, may seem best. 
I have here a list of the Freshmen whose rooms were 
entered by the Sophomores so far as I have been able to 
ascertain, and an estimate of the property damage which 
has been made out by the college carpenter. I think this 
is all I have to lay before you, gentlemen, I will there- 
fore leave the case in your hands/’ and, passing the 
papers which he held in his hand to Foreman Penton, 
Dr. Hysom left the room. 

A moment’s silence followed his withdrawal, during 
which Raymond had an uncomfortable feeling, that he 
was the target of some curious glances on the part of his 
associates. 

“ There are some witnesses, whom I have taken 
the trouble to summon, waiting in the front room,” 
announced Penton. “ Mr. Clerk,” he added, turning 
to Farnsworth, “ I wish you would call Mr. Scruton 
and Mr. Delby.” 

The two Freshmen entered the room a moment later, 
looking decidedly ill at ease. 

“ Mr. Scruton may take the vacant seat at the foot 
of the table,” said Penton, when the two witnesses had 
subscribed to the customary oath. 

“ Now,” he continued, when his request had been 
complied with, “ will you kindly state to the jury pre- 
cisely what occurred in your room, last Monday 
night?” 

“ I don’t think I can add anything to what is generally 
known in the college,” returned Scruton, “ and I wish 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 259 


to say, gentlemen, that neither myself nor my room- 
mate are responsible for any reports that have gone 
out regarding the affair. They must have come from 
other sources.” 

“ You deny — do you?” questioned Farnsworth, 
“ that your room was forcibly entered, Monday night, 
by certain members of the Sophomore class ? ” 

“ I should rather say that it was in the early hours of 
Tuesday morning,” replied Scruton, smiling. 

“ That’s immaterial,” returned Farnsworth, sharply. 
“ As a matter of fact your room was invaded, was it 
not?” 

“ I should scarcely call it that,” responded Scruton, 
with exasperating coolness. “ I had a social call from 
some of my good Sophomore friends, and did what little 
I could to entertain them.” 

A broad and somewhat audible smile greeted this 
announcement. 

“ Were you subjected to any violence? ” asked Pen- 
ton. 

“ Not the slightest,” promptly responded Scruton. 
“ No one laid a hand on me.” 

“ Your contribution to the performance was wholly 
voluntary — was it ? ” pursued Penton. 

“ Entirely so,” declared Scruton with emphasis. 

“ I suppose you won’t deny that your door was 
smashed,” sneered Farnsworth. 

“ I didn’t see anyone smash it,” declared Scruton. 

“ When I called upon you just after dinner to-day,” 


26 o 


THE KENTON PINES 


resumed Penton, “ I noticed the marks of two bare feet 
upon the ceiling of your study room near the bedroom 
door. It looked as if someone, who had been standing 
barefooted in coal dust, had subsequently executed a 
very clever vault of the bedroom door. I observed fur- 
ther that some wag had written under the marks in 
question the inscription ‘ Footprints on the sands of 
time.’ ” 

An audible titter ran about the table at this announce- 
ment, which was promptly checked by Foreman Penton. 
“ Members of the jury will please refrain from all lev- 
ity,” he said peremptorily, pounding smartly with his 
gavel upon the block of wood in front of him. “ What 
explanation has the witness to give of the phenomena I 
have mentioned.” 

“ I plead guilty to the lettering, but not to the foot- 
prints,” smiled Scruton. “ I never climbed over a door 
in my life.” 

A broad grin greeted this statement, which was evi- 
dently very irritating to Farnsworth. 

“ Could you identify your visitors? ” he asked. 

“ I think not,” returned Scruton. “ I got the general 
impression, however, that they were Sophomores.” 

A burst of laughter greeted this response, to Farns- 
worth’s obvious discomfiture. 

“ It’s very evident that this witness has no disposition 
to tell what he knows,” he snapped. “ I must protest, 
Mr. Foreman, against this inquiry being permitted to 
degenerate into a farce.” 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 261 

“ Gentlemen of the jury will please preserve order/’ 
solemnly admonished Penton. 

“ Let me ask the witness/’ inquired Juror Burgess of 
the Freshman class, “ what he knows about the alleged 
groans that were given for the Sophomores.” 

“ They were not given by our class,” declared Scru- 
ton, with decision. 

“ Were they called for by any member of our class? ” 
pursued Burgess. 

“ No,” responded Scruton. “ The call came from an 
upper-classman.” 

“ You are positive about that, are you? ” interrupted 
Penton. 

“ I am,” returned Scruton. 

“ Well, I’m inclined to think you may be right about 
it,” acquiesced the foreman. “ Has any other member 
any questions to ask the witness,” he asked, glancing 
about the table. Receiving no response to his inquiry, 
he added, “ That will do, Mr. Scruton. You are 
excused,” and the witness promptly withdrew from the 
room, his face wreathed in a broad smile. 

“ You may take the stand,” continued Penton, motion- 
ing Delby to the vacant chair. “ What can you tell the 
members of the jury about this affair? ” 

“ I think Mr. Scruton has fully covered the ground,” 
declared Delby, reflectively. “ I don’t know that I 
could add anything new.” 

“ Did you make the footprints?” inquired Juryman 
Sawyer of the Junior class. 


262 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I did,” admitted Delby. 

“ Under what circumstances ? ” 

“ Why, you see,” explained Delby, “ I’m something 
of an athlete, and when my callers very courteously 
assured me that it would please them to see me go over 
the door, I naturally took some pride in showing them 
how well I could do it.” 

Another laugh greeted this announcement. It was 
evident that Delby had made a very favorable impression 
upon the jury. 

“ Could you identify any of your visitors,” asked 
Penton, solemnly. 

“ I don’t think it would be safe for me to undertake 
it,” returned Delby. “ The room was poorly lighted at 
the time, and I was quite busy providing entertainment 
for my visitors. Really, gentlemen, I shouldn’t feel safe 
in venturing any guesses in that direction.” 

“ It would not be wise for you to do so — unless you 
were prepared to speak positively,” declared Sawyer, in 
a tone of conviction. 

“ This is a serious matter, Delby,” added Penton. 

“ So I perceive,” replied the witness, with a grin. 

“ Did you know of any Freshman calling for, or giv- 
ing any groans for the Sophomore class ? ” asked Bur- 
gess. 

“ No. Our class had nothing to do with that.” 

“ Who did give them ? ” interposed Penton. 

“ The whole thing was confined to about half a dozen 
upper-classmen,” replied Delby. 


A MEETING OF THE COLLEGE JURY 


“ Do you think you could identify them? ” 

“ By sight, possibly ; but not by name.” 

u I don’t think of any further questions/’ concluded 
Penton, after a moment’s pause. 

“ I should like to ask the witness if he is quite sure 
that he had any visitors at all, Tuesday morning?” 
inquired Kirk Farnsworth, sarcastically. 

“ That is the best of my recollection,” returned Delby, 
with imperturbable good nature. 

“ Your recollection appears to be singularly defect- 
ive,” sneered Farnsworth. 

“Well, that’s my misfortune; not yours,” retorted 
Delby. 

“ That will do,” interposed Penton, rapping vigor- 
ously with his gavel. “ You are excused, Mr. Delby.” 

The examination of Scruton and Delby was a fair 
sample of the testimony of all the witnesses summoned 
from the Freshman class. Not one of them would 
admit the identification of anyone of his Sophomore 
visitors, or that he had done anything under compul- 
sion. They were also united in asserting that the mem- 
bers of their class had taken absolutely no part in the 
groans that were given for the Sophomores. 

At the conclusion of the investigation Foreman Pen- 
ton briefly summed up the situation. 

“ It looks to me,” he said, “ as if we haven’t anything 
very tangible to work upon. It’s very evident that we 
can’t get anything out of the Freshmen without employ- 
ing the rack and thumbscrews, and I do not imagine that 


264 


THE KENTON PINES 


even Brother Farnsworth would favor a resort to such 
extreme measures. I — ” 

“ I didn’t come here to be insulted,” interposed Farns- 
worth, his face flushed with anger. 

“ Certainly not,” was Penton’s cool rejoinder. “ You 
came here merely as an insulter — and members of the 
jury will bear testimony that throughout the hearing I 
have given you a good deal more leeway in that direc- 
tion than was strictly consistent with the proprieties of 
your position.” 

“ The proprieties here to-day have been chiefly con- 
spicuous by their absence,” declared Farnsworth, hotly. 

“ In your estimation, possibly,” returned Penton, 
“ but let that pass. I don’t see what we can do under 
the circumstances except to adminster a suitable repri- 
man to the Sophomore class as a whole, and assess them 
with a bill of damages returned by the college carpenter. 
It is very evident — ” 

“ Mr. Foreman,” interrupted Raymond, rising in his 
place, “ I wish to say here very frankly that I was one 
of the Sophomores who made the calls upon the Fresh- 
men. Under the circumstances, I do not feel that I can, 
properly, take part in any disposition you may make of 
the pending matter, and it is only right that I should 
withdraw at this point, and leave the other members of 
the jury entirely free to take such action as they may see 
fit.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE VERDICT 

“ I shall ask Mr. Benson to take the witness-stand.” 

Kirk Farnsworth had risen in his place, flushed and 
exultant. It was evident that Raymond’s bold state- 
ment had come as a bombshell to the members of the 
jury, notwithstanding the fact that probably not one of 
them had doubted his participation in the Sophomore 
“ raids.” Indeed it was very generally understood 
throughout the college that Farnsworth was the only 
member of his class who had taken no part in them. 
There was a moment’s awkward pause following Ray- 
mond’s announcement, which was broken by Farns- 
worth’s call upon his classmate to take the witness-stand. 

“Your request is somewhat extraordinary, Mr. 
Farnsworth,” declared Penton. “ You must bear in 
mind that Mr. Benson is not here as a witness. He is 
a member of this jury and as such he is entitled to pre- 
cisely the same rights and privileges here that you are.” 

“ And you’ve just heard him formally renounce them 
in view of the peculiar circumstances in which he is 
placed,” retorted Farnsworth. 

“ The jury has not yet excused him,” coldly returned 
Penton. 


265 


266 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ There is no reason why it should,” persisted Farns- 
worth. His very position makes it impossible to pass 
judgment on the matter under consideration. It would 
certainly be an extraordinary thing for a man to sit 
judicially upon his own transgressions.” 

“ That depends entirely upon the facts in the case, ,, 
declared Sawyer with some warmth. “ It looks to me 
as if the question of Mr. Benson’s eligibility to act on 
the pending case were a question to be decided by this 
jury as a whole, and not by one or two of its members.” 

“ The Chair is of that opinion,” declared Penton, with 
decision. 

“ Mr. Foreman, — ” Farnsworth’s voice was hoarse 
with passion, and the finger which he pointed at Penton 
trembled with excitement — “ we are supposed to be 
here to deal seriously with the questions that come 
before us. We have taken upon ourselves certain 
solemn obligations and responsibilities. It would cer- 
tainly seem incumbent upon us to exercise them with 
some little conception of the duties they impose, and of 
what is decently due to ourselves and to the college.” 

“ Mr. Foreman,” said Albert Nowell, the representa- 
tive of the Senior class, rising in his place, when Farns- 
worth had resumed his seat. “ It seems to me that the 
gentle — the member who has just spoken has gone 
deliberately out of his way to insult the members of this 
jury. He has, in my judgment, acted throughout this 
hearing in anything but the spirit that should properly 
actuate one holding a position in this body. He — ” 


THE VERDICT 267 

“ You misrepresent me!” exclaimed Farnsworth. 
“ You — ” 

“ I refuse to be interrupted,” said Nowell, sharply. 

“ Mr. Nowell has the floor,” declared Penton. 

“ I was about to say,” resumed Nowell, “ that Mr. 
Farnsworth has acted throughout this hearing as if it 
were, in some way, a personal matter with him. He 
has been excited, irritable, and spiteful. Now, before 
this jury has taken any action whatever on the matter 
before it, he deliberately charges us with having dis- 
regarded our obligations. I say there is no occasion 
for such an assertion. It is uncalled for, unwarranted 
and insulting, and I for one serve notice upon Mr. 
Farnsworth that I do not intend to stand for it.” 

“ Mr. Foreman, I beg the pardon of the jury if any- 
thing I have said is capable of the construction that has 
been put upon it by Mr. Nowell,” said Farnsworth, ris- 
ing in his place. “ It has seemed to me, however, that 
throughout this hearing there has been a disposition on 
the part of some of our members to treat this very seri- 
ous matter lightly — as if, in fact, there were no real 
desire to ascertain the truth. If I am wrong I owe my 
associates here an apology. To my mind, however, our 
proceedings thus far have been nothing short of a farce 
— and a roaring farce at that. Our witnesses have all 
professed ignorance of the facts we wished to elicit, and 
now, when we find among our own numbers a gentleman 
who admits that he can tell us all we want to know, there 
appears to be a strong reluctance to secure the advan- 


268 


THE KENTON PINES 


tages of his testimony. I must insist, Mr. Foreman, 
that Mr. Benson take the witness-stand. ,, 

“ Mr. Foreman,” said Raymond, rising to his feet, “ I 
should like to inquire if this jury room is a proper place 
for a member of this body to vent his personal spleen.” 

“ Most certainly not,” responded Penton promptly. 

“ I should also like to ask,” coolly continued Ray- 
mond, “ if a man who advocates, in a public meeting, 
measures even more drastic than any that were recently 
adopted against members of the Freshman class, should 
be held equally guilty with those who actually partici- 
pated in the hazings.” 

“ More so, in my judgment,” declared Penton with 
emphasis. “ Any man who incites others to do what he 
hasn’t the courage to do himself, is a coward, as well as 
a miscreant.” 

“ Then,” said Raymond, “ I ask that Mr. Farnsworth 
be put upon the witness-stand.” 

In a moment Farnsworth was upon his feet, his face 
white with passion. 

“ It’s false ! ” he gasped. “ This is an outrage — a 
dastardly plot.” 

“ That, it seems to me, is properly a question to be 
determined by the jury,” declared Penton. 

“ I think I shall be able to substantiate very fully any 
statement I may make,” calmly added Raymond. 

“ May I ask, Mr. Benson, if the testimony you expect 
Mr. Farnsworth to offer comes properly before that 
which he asked you to give,” inquired the foreman. 


THE VERDICT 


269 


“ It does.” 

“ Very well, then, I will ask you to take the stand,” 
said Penton, turning to Farnsworth. 

“ I positively refuse to do so,” was the angry 
response. “ I tell you this is all a low-down trick — a 
put up job to place me in a false position.” 

“ I think the gentleman can tell us a very interesting 
story if he is so disposed,” persisted Raymond with 
exasperating coolness. “ At any rate I should like to 
question him on a few points.” 

“I — I shall hold you responsible for this,” shouted 
Farnsworth, angrily, springing to his feet and shaking 
his fist at Raymond. 

“ I am entirely responsible for what I say, here or 
elsewhere,” retorted Raymond. 

“ Come ! Come ! Mr. Farnsworth,” interrupted 
Penton. “ You are delaying our proceedings. Will 
you please take the witness-stand ? ” 

“ No, sir, I will not,” snapped Farnsworth. “ I posi- 
tively refuse to be imposed upon in any such high- 
handed manner.” 

“ It seems to me, Mr. Foreman,” said Sawyer, 
blandly, “ as if the unaccountable, and really inexcusable 
refusal of Mr. Farnsworth to give the testimony desired 
from him has effectively blocked our proceedings. As 
his testimony comes before that of Mr. Benson, I do not 
see how we can very well go on without it.” 

“ Do you persist in your refusal ? ” inquired the fore- 


man. 


27 o 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I do — emphatically.” 

“ Very well. What action will the jury take upon the 
matter ? ” 

“ I move, sir,” said Juror Nowell, “ that both Mr. 
Benson and Mr. Farnsworth be excused from further 
attendance upon this meeting.” 

“ Second the motion,” said Sawyer. 

“ It is moved and seconded that Mr. Benson and Mr. 
Farnsworth be excused from further attendance upon 
this meeting,” repeated the foreman. “ All those in 
favor will please raise their hands.” 

Every member but Farnsworth promptly responded. 

“ It is a vote,” announced the foreman. 

“ I protest against this usage,” blustered Farnsworth. 
“ I shall appeal to the faculty.” 

“ I think that would be a good plan,” said Penton, 
suavely. 

“ Perhaps the gentleman might feel disposed to favor 
them with the testimony he has withheld from the jury,” 
suggested Nowell. 

Outside the office building Farnsworth paused to fire a 
parting shot at Raymond, who had started up the walk 
towards Abbot hall. 

“ I’ll make you smart for this,” he growled. 

At the sound of his voice Raymond turned and faced 
him. 

“ You think you’re a mighty smart fellow, Benson,” 
continued Farnsworth, with a sneer, “ but it won’t be 
my fault if I don’t square accounts with you.” 


THE VERDICT 


27I 


“ Why don’t you go to the faculty, you class rene- 
gade ? ” retorted Raymond. 

“ Do you dare call me a renegade?” gasped Farns- 
worth. 

Raymond walked quickly back and stood directly in 
front of his angry classmate, looking him squarely and 
fearlessly in the eye. 

“ That’s what I said,” he asserted, calmly — “ sneak- 
ing, conceited, cowardly renegade.” 

Farnsworth made a motion as if to strike, but thought 
better of it, and dropped his hand to his side. He was 
not wholly without discretion, even in his anger. 

“ I didn’t think any member of my class would treat 
me so,” he whined. 

“ And the rest of us didn’t think there was one of our 
members who would go squarely back on us,” said Ray- 
mond. 

“ It’s no such thing! ” retorted Farnsworth. “ You 
are trying to put me in a false position. It’s true I 
didn’t go with you to visit the Freshmen, after the 
insulting way in which I was flouted and turned down 
at class meeting, but it is not true that I have gone back 
upon the class.” 

“ It’s no use for you to talk to me,” returned Ray- 
mond. “ Your whole conduct, to-day, was actuated by 
a desire to get back at the class for what you conceived 
to be your personal grievance. I don’t pretend to be as 
bright and penetrating as you are; but you must at 
least give me credit for being able to see through a hole 


272 


THE KENTON PINES 


in a grindstone. One thing is sure, Pud, you will have 
to answer to the class for some things before you will 
be in good standing with the fellows again.” 

It was evident that Farnsworth had not seriously con- 
sidered this phase of the situation. He rubbed his 
hands nervously, twisting his long fingers together in 
very evident perturbation. 

“ You misjudge me, Benson,” he said weakly. “ I 
meant no disloyalty to our class. I did feel that the jury 
should be given all the facts, and I had a plan for the 
adjustment of the whole matter that would, I am confi- 
dent, have left our class in considerable better shape than 
will now be the case when the members of the jury ren- 
der their verdict. Do you realize that our class will 
have no voice whatever in the decision that will be 
reached ? ” 

“ That’s not my fault,” returned Raymond, warmly. 
“ You might have been there now if you hadn’t been so 
mighty anxious to stick a pin in me. I’m frank to say, 
Pud, that, in view of what I have seen and heard, this 
afternoon, I feel a good deal better about the treatment 
that will be accorded our class, now that you are out of 
the jury room.” 

“ Rub it in! Rub it in!” whined Farnsworth, bit- 
terly. “ It’s bad enough to misjudge a fellow in such 
a way, but I suppose you’ll not be fully satisfied until 
you have misrepresented me to the whole class.” 

" No, I’ll do nothing of the kind/’ returned Ray- 
mond. "I’ll — ” 


THE VERDICT 


273 


“ Tell the truth and shame the devil,” interposed a 
voice at his elbow, while the speaker laid a cordial hand 
upon his shoulder. 

Turning, Raymond looked into the round, good- 
natured face of his roommate. 

“ Come, old man,” said Ned, lightly, “let’s leave 
affairs of state and go to supper. It’s about time for the 
bell to ring. Good-by, Pud,” and, linking his arm in 
Raymond’s, he led him slowly up the walk towards the 
chapter house beyond the opposite side of the campus. 

They had gone but a short distance before they were 
overtaken by Penton. 

“ I don’t dare to let you fellows have much of a start 
towards the supper table,” he puffed, good-naturedly. 

“ Why,” said Raymond, in surprise. “ I didn’t 
expect to see you again before midnight.” 

“ I suppose the members of your class were planning 
to sit up and wait for the verdict, weren’t you ? ” ques- 
tioned Penton, quizzically. 

“ Very likely they were,” laughed Ned. “ You 
mustn’t expect us to admit too much to a juryman. 
Still, I expect we shall sleep a trifle better when the 
agony is over.” 

“ Well, peaceful be your slumbers then. It’s all over.” 

“ You don’t say so ! ” ejaculated Ned. 

“ Why, it wasn’t more than a quarter of an hour ago 
that I left you,” added Raymond. 

“ Time enough, and to burn, old fellow,” laughed 
Penton. “ I can tell you that after we’d unloaded you 


274 


THE KENTON PINES 


and Farnsworth business progressed with a rush. It 
went through on the lightning express.” 

“ And the verdict? ” 

“I suppose it isn’t just the thing to give out in 
advance of the official announcement, but, inasmuch as 
you are a member of the jury — though temporarily in 
disgrace — I think you are entitled to know ; but for 
heaven’s sake don’t quote me. Close up your ears, 
Grover.” 

“ I’m as deaf as a haddock,” laughed Ned. 

“ Well then, we voted to reprimand the Sophomore 
class severely, to assess all property damages upon its 
members, and to put the whole of you on probation for 
the rest of the year.” 

“ Does that include Farnsworth? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Certainly,” rejoined Penton. “ Wasn’t he one of 
the inspired orators who let loose the floodgates of his 
eloquence at your class meeting, and incited all the rest 
of you to riot? Why shouldn’t he be punished for his 
iniquities? There was some question as to whether or 
not we should permit him to send out, as clerk of the 
jury, the very scathing letter we drew up for your refor- 
mation. We decided, however, that this was, unques- 
tionably, his prerogative.” 

“ Wonder if he’ll send one to himself? ” laughed Ned. 

“ I think he will,” declared Raymond. “ He’s just 
waking up to his true situation in Sophomore circles, 
and will want to show it in order to square himself with 
the class.” 


THE VERDICT 


275 


“ Such an inclusive verdict ought to leave him in full 
fellowship/’ remarked Penton, lightly. 

“ Yes, let it go at that, Rame,” urged Ned, with 
characteristic forbearance. “ The trouble with that fel- 
low has always been his overweening self-conceit. It 
gallops away with all his horse-sense.” 

“ And isn’t very heavily loaded at that,” added Pen- 
ton. “ Better drop him, Benson. It doesn’t pay to keep 
a gun for mosquitoes. It’s a waste of ammunition.” 

“ You’re right, fellows,” acquiesced Raymond. “ I 
hope that neither of you think I would lay up anything 
against Farnsworth. I’ve no doubt he’ll be sorry 
enough for the part he’s played, when he gets down on 
the earth again — and I reckon he’s about there now. I 
confess I was a little warm when he pitched into me, 
after we left the jury meeting.” 

“Ah — ha — called you down, did he?” ejaculated 
Penton. 

“ Well, he tried to. We had a very plain heart to 
heart talk, and I fancied I detected a drop of about forty 
degrees in his mental temperature before we parted.” 

“ Are you quite sure that it wasn’t fifty degrees ? ” 
laughed Ned. 

“ Well it might have been,” rejoined Raymond. “ I 
didn’t have my thermometer with me. Seriously 
though, fellows, I haven’t the slightest desire to do or 
say anything that will make Farnsworth’s position in the 
college any harder than it will be, necessarily, from the 
very force of circumstances.” 


276 


THE KENTON PINES 


The announcement of the jury’s verdict reached the 
members of the Sophomore class the following day. 
Those who anticipated that it would be in Farnsworth’s 
handwriting were disappointed, however, as he had 
taken the precaution to have it printed. Even the 
envelopes were addressed with a typewriter. As Ray- 
mond had predicted Farnsworth had one addressed to 
himself, which he took considerable pains to exhibit to a 
number of his classmates. 

There were of course some members of the college 
who denounced the jury’s verdict as a “ whitewash,” but 
on the whole it gave general satisfaction. The Fresh- 
men maintained a scrupulous observance of established 
customs — especially the one which required them to 
stand during the prayer at Chapel services, and the 
remaining weeks of the college year were among the 
.most peaceful and orderly in the history of Kenton. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


ned's eligibility challenged 

“ We might just as well withdraw from the league, 
as to try and go through the season without you, Ned.” 

Raymond Benson sat in the window seat of his study 
and looked disconsolately at his roommate who, having 
just imparted some very unexpected and disquieting 
news, had hung up his hat and thrown himself upon 
the couch. 

“ I hope you won’t have to,” cheerfully responded 
Ned. “ I’m only suspended for a week, pending an 
investigation by the Committee on Athletics.” 

“ When did you first hear of this protest from the 
Osarge University ? ” pursued Raymond. 

“ About half an hour ago. Prof. Burton called me 
into his study as I was passing his house, on my way 
home from the post-office. I tell you, old boy, I was 
just a trifle dazed when he told me that a protest had 
been filed with his committee charging me with being a 
professional. You could have knocked me down with 
a feather.” 

Raymond walked nervously across the room, and back 
again. It was evident that he was very much disturbed 
by this unexpected announcement which had descended 
277 


278 


THE KENTON PINES 


upon him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. 
“ Were there any specifications ? ” he demanded with 
evident anxiety. 

“Yes — some rather vague and indefinite ones. It 
was charged first, that I had played professional ball on 
one of the teams in the New York State League; second, 
that I had played professional ball, under an assumed 
name, on one of the teams of the Connecticut League; 
third, that I was induced to come to Kenton by a mone- 
tary consideration.” 

“ The nerve of it ! ” exclaimed Raymond wrathfully. 
“The monumental gall! Why, Ned, there isn’t any 
truth whatever in those assertions — is there? ” 

“ None whatever, so far as the last two are concerned. 
I never played a game of ball in the Connecticut League 
in my life, and you know very well that I am paying 
my own expenses at Kenton.” 

“ It’s an outrage to make such charges ! ” declared 
Raymond. 

“ Perhaps it doesn’t seem so to them,” returned Ned, 
“ especially as they throw the burden of the investiga- 
tion upon the Kenton Athletic Committee, under the 
system of control in vogue here.” 

“ What about that first specification ? ” gloomily 
inquired Raymond. 

“ There’s a little element of truth in that,” admitted 
Ned, reluctantly. 

“ But surely you never played on a New York State 
League team,” asked Raymond, incredulously. 


ned’s eligibility challenged 


279 

“ Well, yes, in a very small way,” returned Ned. 
“ You see the Utica team played an exhibition game 
with an independent team in the town adjoining Woods- 
ville. Our season had closed and one or two of us went 
over to see it. In the sixth inning the Utica catcher was 
knocked out. They had no other back-stop with them 
— and, as a matter of accommodation, I went in and 
caught out the game for them.” 

“ Did they pay you anything for it ? ” 

“Not a cent. They offered to; but I wouldn’t take 
anything.” 

“ I don’t think the Osarge protest will amount to 
shucks,” declared Raymond, confidently. “ What if 
they’d got on to the arrangement under which you 
played at Woodsville? That was the first thing I 
thought of when you told me you’d been suspended.” 

“ There’s no danger from that source,” asserted Ned. 
“ However much the Woodsville management would 
like to punish me for coming to Kenton, I happen to 
know that it is not in position to open up that question. 
Besides, you know, I returned everything I got from 
them.” 

“We’ll clear you, old boy — never fear,” assured 
Raymond, with a return of confidence. “ Why just 
you think of the cheek of that protest ! I have positive 
proof that four members of the Osarge team played ball 
for money all last summer.” 

“ It was on an independent team wasn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes, but what’s that got to do with it? ” 


28 o 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ More than you think, perhaps. Prof. Burton 
showed me the rule of the league which bars all men 
who have played ball on any team under the National 
or American League Agreements.” 

“ Was the Utica team under the National Agree- 
ment ? ” 

“ I think it was.” 

“ But Ned,” protested Raymond, “just think of it! 
To apply such a rule to you would be to bar you out on 
a mere technicality. 

“ The whole thing is liable to turn on a technicality,” 
declared Ned. “ Who are the members of the commit- 
tee?” 

“ Why — there’s Prof. Burton, representing the fac- 
ulty. Bert Nowell, our manager, representing the 
undergraduates, Dr. Burse of Plainsville, and Col. Pen- 
dexter of Bayburg, representing the alumni.” 

“ Let’s look that bunch over a moment,” said Ned. 
“ Of course Nowell would be with us on half a chance, 
Prof. Burton would hate to go against us; but he’s an 
awful sticker for purity in athletics. It’s a regular 
hobby with him. Dr. Burse is a great ball crank, but 
one of those men who will sacrifice anything to a sense 
of duty. Col. Pendexter is a lawyer, and will be gov- 
erned entirely by the strict legal aspects of the case. If 
he can see any justifiable construction of the rule as 
applied to the case that will let us out he will give it to 
us — otherwise he will be against us.” 

“It won’t strengthen the case of the Osarge people 


ned’s eligibility challenged 281 

when we show up the utter falsity of their last two 
charges,” asserted Raymond. 

“ That’s true,” asserted Ned, “ and yet I’m inclined 
to think that the matter will be decided upon the strict 
construction of the rule in its application to the facts in 
the case.” 

“ When does the matter come before the committee? ” 

“ I am to meet with them at Prof. Burton’s house, 
tomorrow afternoon.” 

It was the opening week of the summer term at Ken- 
ton. Raymond had worked faithfully with his baseball 
squad in the gymnasium throughout the fall and winter 
terms, and now that the college had been afforded an 
opportunity to size up the work of the players on the 
field, the verdict was general that Kenton would have a 
much stronger team than the one of the previous season. 
Five players had been lost by graduation, Moody, 
catcher; Keaton and Lincoln, pitchers; Kent and Tobey, 
out-fielders. Moody’s place had been more than filled 
by the acquisition of Ned Grover. Raymond had early 
appreciated the importance of a change pitcher, and had 
found him in Scruton, the tall Freshman. Scruton had 
great speed and the advantage of a left-hand delivery. 
He was also an exceptionally good batsman. Ray- 
mond had devoted considerable attention to his instruc- 
tion during the winter, working him much of the time, 
with Claude Redford, with occasional changes to Ned 
Grover, and taking a sincere pride in his development. 
Another star man had been secured from the Freshman 


282 


THE KENTON PINES 


class in the person of Delby. While the position of this 
player had always been at third base, where he was cer- 
tainly a very clever man, Raymond felt that it would 
not be wise to break up his veteran in-field. Delby was, 
therefore, given the place in left field which had been 
filled, the previous season, by Tobey. Here he soon 
proved himself a good running mate for Redford in 
center whom he greatly excelled as a batsman. The 
vacancy in right field was filled by Raymond or Scruton, 
when not occupying the pitcher’s box. With this make- 
up Raymond had felt that his team was fully prepared 
for all emergencies, and had looked forward, hopefully, 
to a successful season on the diamond, and now the 
unexpected protest of the Osarge management bid fair 
to upset all his plans. He felt that Ned’s presence on 
the team was absolutely necessary to its success, for 
while Claude Redford’s back-stopping had been consid- 
erably improved by his winter’s work in the gymnasium, 
he was certainly not in Ned’s class as a catcher, and 
Raymond felt sure that he would not be equal to the 
strain of a whole season’s work behind the bat. 

It was, therefore, with gloomy forebodings that he 
made his way toward Prof. Burton’s house the follow- 
ing afternoon, in company with Ned and Manager 
Nowell. 

As they approached the place of meeting a tall form 
stepped suddenly from behind a big tree, and a long arm 
was thrown about Raymond’s shoulder. 

“ Your money or your life,” said a familiar voice. 


ned’s eligibility challenged 283 

“Charlie Mansur!” exclaimed Raymond, joyfully. 
“ How in the world did you come here? ” 

“ Oh, I just rained down,” laughed Mansur. “ I’m 
going to stay here over Sunday. How are you, Bert ! ” 
he added extending a hand to Nowell. 

“ First rate! ” Glad to see you, Mansur,” returned 
Nowell grasping it cordially. 

“ Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Ned 
Grover,” said Raymond. 

“ I scarcely feel as if I needed any introduction to 
you, Grover,” declared Mansur, heartily, as he shook 
hands with Ned. “ I’ve really had a long-distance 
acquaintance with you for nearly two years.” 

“ I was about to remark that myself,” laughed Ned. 

“ I don’t see but that you’ve taken pretty good care 
of my boy,” continued Mansur, turning to take another 
look at Raymond. “ Really, old fellow, the sight of 
you restores my lost youth.” 

“ What have you done with yourself since you’ve 
been hibernating — you old bear ? ” demanded Ray- 
mond. 

“ I’ve ostensibly been a student of pills and poultices ; 
but as a matter of fact, most of my time of late has been 
given up to a managing directorship in our New Eng- 
land League baseball team.” 

“ Mirabile dictu!” exclaimed Raymond. “You, a 
baseball crank ! ” 

“ Yes,” admitted Mansur, “ a 14-carat one. Father 
has borne up under the affliction with marvellous forti- 


284 


THE KENTON PINES 


tude. He says the baseball craze is something like the 
measles — almost every young fellow is pretty sure to 
have it at least once. Why, do you know, fellows, I’ve 
recently fought out the case of two of our players, who 
jumped us near the close of last season, before the 
National Board of Control. I won out on both of them, 
and they must either report to us, or get out of profes- 
sional baseball. I’m looking for them to show up 
almost any day.” 

“ You’re just the man we want, Charlie! ” exclaimed 
Raymond, with sudden inspiration. “ The Osarge 
management has protested Ned, and we are on our way 
now to Prof. Burton’s house to have a hearing before 
the General Committee on Athletics. We shall want 
you with us.” 

“ I shall be pleased to afford you the moral support 
of my august presence,” returned Mansur, lightly, “ but, 
otherwise, I do not see how I can be of much assistance 
to you.” 

“ I’m not so sure but that you may be able to clear up 
some matters for us,” returned Raymond. 

When the party arrived in Prof. Burton’s study they 
found the other three members of the Athletic Commit- 
tee awaiting them. It was evident that, looking upon 
Nowell as, in the very nature of things, a special pleader, 
they had improved the opportunity to discuss the situa- 
tion among themselves before his arrival. All of them 
greeted Mansur warmly, although it was apparent that 
his presence was something of a surprise to them. 


ned’s eligibility challenged 285 

At the request of Prof. Burton, Ned took up the 
charges of the Osarge management and answered them 
in order. His frank and straightforward statement 
obviously made a favorable impression upon the mem- 
bers of the committee. 

“ It seems to me that the two last charges — which 
at best are merely unsupported assertions — may be dis- 
missed as utterly without foundation/’ declared Col. 
Pendexter. 

“ Is that the pleasure of the committee ? ” asked 
Chairman Burton. “ It is a vote,” he announced, after 
a moment’s pause. 

“ According to Mr. Grover’s own admissions, there 
appears to be some small basis for the first charge,” said 
Dr. Burse, “ although I’ll admit, gentlemen, that it is at 
best decidedly nebulous — in spirit, if not in form.” 

“ It constitutes nothing more than a very shadowy 
technicality,” asserted Nowell, with emphasis. “ It is 
very well known that four of the present members of 
the Osarge team played ball for money all last summer. 
Surely that constitutes professionalism.” 

“ In a general way that would be true,” responded 
Col. Pendexter, “ but not, I fear, under our eligibility 
rule, which seems to have been framed with a view to 
affording impecunious players a chance to replenish their 
purses by playing ball on independent teams through 
the summer vacations. Even if such were not the fact 
it would be of no assistance in Mr. Grover’s case, which 
must of course, be considered upon its own merits.” 


286 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Certainly — ah — certainly,” interposed Professor 
Burton, nervously. “ Whatever our personal feeling in 
the matter may be we must, necessarily, be governed 
by the letter of the rule.” 

“ I don’t know that it’s my place to butt in here, gen- 
tlemen,” interposed Mansur, “ but, as an alumnus of 
Kenton, I am somewhat interested to inquire how a few 
innings of play by Mr. Grover, without compensation, is 
to be held to constitute professionalism, while a season’s 
play at good salaries on the part of four Osarge players 
still leaves them in good amateur standing ? ” 

“ It is, unquestionably, an anomaly,” admitted Col. 
Pendexter, “ but, unfortunately for us, the distinction — 
arbitrary and unreasonable as it is — is one clearly made 
by the eligibility rule adopted by the league.” 

“ Have you a copy of that rule, Colonel ? ” 

“ Yes, right here,” responded the Colonel, passing 
Mansur a small pamphlet. “ You will find it marked 
under Section Five.” 

There was a moment’s silence, while Mansur slowly 
read the indicated passage. 

“ I don’t see how that rule affects Grover,” he 
announced presently, returning the book to the Colonel. 

“ Why not? ” demanded Professor Burton. 

“ It excludes only students who have played ball 
under the National or American League Agreements.” 

“ Isn’t the Utica team playing under the National 
Agreement ? ” eagerly inquired the Colonel. 

“ It is now, but it wasn’t last season. As a matter 


ned’s eligibility challenged 287 

of fact it didn’t come under that agreement until Febru- 
ary of this year.” 

“Are you sure about this, Mr. Mansur?” inquired 
Dr. Burse, anxiously. “ What you say is very impor- 
tant, if it can be substantiated.” 

“ There’s no question about it,” declared Mansur. 
“ I am interested in, and officially connected with a 
team now playing under the National Agreement, and 
know what I’m talking about. It is very evident that 
the young gentlemen who drew up the constitution of 
your college league used the terms * National League 
Agreement,’ and ‘ American League Agreement,’ with 
a somewhat vague and indefinite conception of their 
meaning. In the first place there never was any such 
thing as an American League Agreement. The old 
National League Agreement was a set of rules and 
regulations for the conduct of professional baseball 
drawn up and administered by the officials of the 
National League. Under it minor leagues were divided 
into classes on the basis of the salaries they paid, and, 
by paying in to the president of the National League 
an annual sum of money for each of their clubs, were 
entitled to ‘ protection.’ In other words, all the leagues 
who thus subscribed to the agreement bound themselves 
not to interfere during the season with the players under 
contract to teams playing under the ‘ protection ’ of the 
established rules and regulations. At the close of the 
playing season the clubs playing under the National 
Agreement had a right to ‘ reserve ’ their players. All 


288 


THE KENTON PINES 


such teams had also the right to ‘ draft * players from 
teams in leagues of a lower class, by paying a certain 
fixed sum for their 4 release.’ This could only be done, 
however, at the close of the playing season. 

“ A ‘ National Board of Control ’ composed of offi- 
cials of the National League, served as a baseball court, 
to which all disputes between teams playing under the 
‘ Agreement ’ were referred for settlement. Its decisions 
were final and binding upon all parties concerned.” 

“ It would seem as if the National League had mat- 
ters pretty much in its own hands under that arrange- 
ment,” suggested Col. Pendexter. 

“ It did, absolutely,” returned Mansur. “ The pro- 
tection money exacted from the minor leagues was 
really tribute money paid to secure immunity from 
the pirating of players during the baseball season — 
an immunity that is very essential, I can assure you, to 
the success of professional baseball. When the Amer- 
ican League came into the field as a rival to the National 
League, it repudiated the former agreement, and raided 
the players of the old league right and left. Under 
the circumstances the National League was no longer 
able to afford ‘ protection ’ to the minor leagues, and 
they were forced to withdraw from the old National 
Agreement and form an association of their own for 
mutual protection. It was as a member of that minor 
league association that the Utica team played ball last 
season. Late in the fall or early in the winter, the 
American and National Leagues came together, with 


ned's eligibility challenged 


289 


representatives of the minor leagues, and formed the 
new National Agreement which is in force this season. 
I happen to know that it was not until last February 
that the Utica team came under its provisions by the 
payment of its 4 protection ’ money.” 

“ It seems to me,” declared Colonel Pendexter, “ that 
the clear and comprehensive statement of Mr. Mansur 
makes it very evident that Mr. Grover has in nowise 
violated our eligibility rule, and I move, Mr. Chairman, 
that the protest against him be dismissed, that the 
Osarge management be advised of our decision, and 
that he be released from further suspension.” 

The motion was put and carried, to the evident relief 
of the committee, and a little later four very jubilant 
young men were making their way towards the Kenton 
campus. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 

The announcement that the Athletic Committee had 
investigated the charges of professionalism which had 
been preferred against Ned Grover, and had decided 
them to be unfounded, was the occasion of much elation 
among the undergraduates of Kenton, who had awaited 
the outcome of the meeting with no little anxiety. 
When the part borne at the hearing by Mansur was 
made known to the college the tall graduate became 
the hero of the hour. 

Ned, by his sunny disposition and generous sym- 
pathies, no less than his athletic prowess, had made 
himself a favorite with his fellow students, and the 
news that the Osarge management had protested him 
was the occasion of general indignation among the 
undergraduates of Kenton. 

The day following the meeting of the Athletic Com- 
mittee, which was Sunday, Mansur spent most of the 
afternoon in a leisurely tramp through the country 
with Raymond and Ned. They parted with him with 
regret, despite his promise to spend commencement 
week at Plainsville. 

“ I shall come to the Medical School, next year,” 
290 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


291 


he said, “ and you’ve no idea what a bore you will 
find me.” 

The following day the baseball team went away on 
its annual practice trip. A series of eight games were 
played with a number of the larger colleges, six of 
which resulted in victories. Raymond and Scruton 
alternated in the box, and broke even on the record — 
each winning three of his four games. No small part 
of the Freshman’s success was due to the constant 
coaching and encouragement he received from Ray- 
mond. Ned, who caught all the games, also exerted 
a steadying influence upon the young pitcher, whose 
good work, and the modest manner in which he bore 
his honors, were very gratifying to his team mates. 
An encouraging feature of the team’s work on the trip 
was its consistent and heavy batting, in which Ned 
and Delby excelled. 

The league season that followed the return of the 
nine was a notable one in the annals of baseball at 
Kenton. The various teams of the league were well 
matched, and the battle for championship honors was 
a royal one. Scruton was tried out in some of the 
earlier games, and, on the whole, did very creditable 
work ; but, as the season advanced, the bulk of Kenton’s 
work in the pitcher’s box fell upon Raymond, who was 
not only able by his superb pitching to win most of his 
games, but also succeeded in pulling out several of 
Scruton’s after they were apparently lost. No small 
part of the success of the team was due to the steady 


292 


THE KENTON PINES 


and effective work of Ned Grover, who not only played 
a brilliant game behind the bat, but was also a close 
second to Delby as a batsman. The close of the season 
found the pennant resting once more with Kenton. 

The members of the nine at the completion of the 
championship series reelected Raymond as Captain for 
the next year; but he positively refused to serve and 
the honor went to Ned Grover, the players feeling that 
his experience and his ability, from his position, to 
command the whole field, specially qualified him for the 
place. 

The Vine Day game was an exhibition contest with 
the Osarge team; but it was sadly lacking in the stir- 
ring interest that had characterized the famous thirteen- 
inning game with the Case team that had decided the 
championship the year before. The Osarge team was 
very clever in its fielding, but wofully weak at the bat. 
Raymond, who was in the pink of condition and per- 
fectly supported by Ned, completely mystified its players, 
and so strong was the lead secured by Kenton in the 
first five innings that he went to right field and per- 
mitted Scruton to finish the game in the box. 

A pleasant feature of Vine Day to both Raymond 
and Ned was the presence of Clara Benson, who had 
come on from Bangor, at her brother’s very earnest 
invitation, to attend the various exercises and enjoy the 
social and athletic features of the day. 

She had attended the ball game in company with 
Janet Amsden and Alice Mercer, who, before her return 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


293 


home on the late afternoon train, had exacted a promise 
from her to spend the week of Commencement in 
Plainsville as their guest. 

Aside from the athletic features, the summer term at 
Kenton was an especially enjoyable one. The campus, 
always beautiful at any season of the year, was regal 
in its summer glories. Appreciating the irresistible 
attractions of the out-of-door life in May and June, 
the faculty had endeavored to bring the studies of the 
summer term, so far as possible, into harmony with 
the season. Geology, botany, zoology, and mineralogy 
all came in these closing weeks of the college year, 
when nature study at first hand could be made to 
supplement text-books. 

It is fortunate for our colleges, at all times, and 
especially during the summer terms, that the super- 
abundant spirits and physical energy of their under- 
graduates can find some vent through the harmless 
channel of athletics — for find some vent it must and 
will. 

One sweltering day near the close of the college year, 
Professor Dunham had just called the Latin class to 
order when through the open windows of the recitation- 
room floated the deafening strains of a German band, 
which some of the boys had beguiled upon the campus 
for the occasion. 

It was evident that the musicians were determined 
to make up in energy for any lack of harmony. They 
literally “ held the floor.’’ After trying in vain for a 


294 


THE KENTON PINES 


few minutes to run an indoor opposition, Professor 
Dunham asked Sam Day to go out and request the 
musicians to leave. The tall Sophomore promptly left 
the room, but scarcely was he back in his seat again 
before the band started in on a new selection of an even 
more lung-expanding variety than any that had pre- 
ceded it. The Professor looked disturbed. He glanced 
doubtfully at Day, and then said, with some decision: 

“ Grover, I wish you would go out and tell the 
members of that band that I insist on their going 
away immediately.” 

Ned left the room fully intending to do the Pro- 
fessor’s errand, in entire good faith, but once face to 
face with the perspiring but tenacious crowd of rain- 
makers outside, he was completely overcome by the 
humor of the situation. His good resolutions vanished 
and, pouring into the hat of the fat and beaming captain 
all the loose change in his pockets, he delivered the 
Professor’s message somewhat after this fashion: 

“ It’s great ! The boys are delighted with you. It’s 
a pleasure to all of us to listen to you. The Professor 
— • a fussy old fellow — insists on your going away 
immediately, but you mustn’t mind him. He has no 
ear for music such as yours. Do you know he hasn’t 
chipped in a cent. Can’t you play something patriotic 
and lively ? ” 

“ Yaw.” 

“ Just give me time to get inside, where I can enjoy 
it — then whoop ’er up.” 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


29s 


No sooner had Ned resumed his place in the class 
than the recitation was lost in a perfect tornado of 
sound, amid the discordant pandemonium of which 
struggled a faint suspicion of “ Marching Through 
Georgia.” It was evident that the band was playing 
it with variations. 

The Professor was dumfounded. 

“ Did you tell that band that I desired them to go 
away immediately?” he demanded, turning to Ned. 

“ Yes, sir, I told them you insisted on it.” 

A glimmer of the truth dawned upon the Professor. 
Without another word he left the room and through 
the door, which Ned had purposely left ajar, the 
class heard him vigorously expostulating with the band, 
whose members he had some difficulty in convincing 
that he was not the bearer of another collection. 

Finally the situation dawned upon the chagrined 
musicians, and, with profuse apologies, they left the 
campus. The spirit of class application, however, 
departed with them, and the remainder of the reci- 
tation was spent by the grinning Sophomores in a vain 
endeavor to straighten out their faces. 

During the summer term came also the annual 
Field Day sports, with their various trials of athletic 
strength and skill. In these contests the Sophomore 
class excelled, securing the gold medal for “ the best 
class record,” a prize which was put upon permanent 
exhibition, with no little pride, in the “ trophy room ” of 
the gymnasium. Raymond and Ned had not specially 


296 


THE KENTON PINES 


trained for any of the events, nevertheless the former 
succeeded in capturing a first in the hurdle race, and a 
second in the running broad jump; while Ned won out 
in the swimming match and the throwing of the base- 
ball. They were, therefore, able, between them, to con- 
tribute eleven points to the success of their class, whose 
supremacy was only secured by the narrow margin of 
two points. 

There had been for some time, following the verdict 
of the jury on the hazing raid, a disposition on the 
part of certain members of the Sophomore class to visit 
some form of punishment upon Kirk Farnsworth for 
what they conceived to be his disloyalty. A meeting 
was held by a few of the class radicals to consider the 
matter. After more or less discussion it was finally 
decided that Farnsworth should be deprived of his 
moustache and side- whiskers. George Baker, Wes 
Jarvis and Jim Rayner were appointed a committee to 
carry this penalty into effect, but, for some reason, 
failed to do so. It was generally understood that 
Farnsworth owed his escape from this humiliation, 
partly to the outspoken disapproval of Raymond Ben- 
son, Ned Grover, Charlie Longley, and other influential 
Sophomores, and partly to his own efforts to make 
himself more agreeable, in which he was, to a con- 
siderable extent, successful. 

Commencement week brought its usual crowd of 
visitors. The relatives and friends of the graduating 
class were out in force, and the alumni, always loyal 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


297 

to their Alma Mater, were back in large numbers. 
The streets, the hotels, the campus and the chapter 
houses were all scenes of life and animation. Raymond 
and Ned found time to accept Mansur’s invitation to 
enjoy a buckboard ride, Monday afternoon, in company 
with the young ladies, to General Amsden’s summer 
home at Ledgy Point. 

“ I hope you all have your lives insured,” laughed 
the tall graduate, who sat on the front seat with Alice 
Mercer, as he picked up the reins at starting. 

“ There’s no need of it,” replied Janet, who occupied 
the seat behind with Raymond Benson. “ I secured 
these horses with a special view to your shortcomings.” 

“ If she hadn’t I wouldn’t have thought of coming 
with you,” declared Alice, decisively. 

“ If we should meet an automobile or a road-roller, 
I should have to pass the reins to you,” returned Man- 
sur. “ Your lack of confidence has unnerved me.” 

“If you should — I — I should scream ! ” declared 
Alice, amid the laughter of her companions. 

“ What was it I heard about your joke on good old 
Dr. Bumpus, Mr. Benson?” inquired Janet, with a 
gleam of mischief in her eyes, as they jogged leisurely 
along the pine-fringed highway. 

“ I’m afraid someone has been slandering me,” 
returned Raymond, evasively. 

“ Let’s have it, old boy,” called Mansur, who had 
caught the question, over his shoulder. “ I heard 
something about that.” 


298 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I don’t think it would be quite proper for me to 
tell tales out of school,” persisted Raymond. 

“ Mr. Grover,” said Janet, turning to Ned, who 
occupied the rear seat with Clara Benson, “ you must 
excuse me for breaking in upon that nice little tete-a- 
tete, but I don’t see but you’ll have to tell us what Mr. 
Benson said to Dr. Bumpus at the Greek examination.” 

“ Yes, do please,” added Alice, eagerly. 

“Ned!” cried Raymond, warningly. 

“ It’s no use, old fellow,” was the laughing response. 
“ They’re bound to find out somehow, so they might 
just as well get it straight. You see we’ve been read- 
ing the ‘Antigone of Sophocles ’ this term. Rame had 
just translated a passage, and was about to resume 
his seat when the old Doctor, who had been half dozing 
through the examination, suddenly bestirred himself. 
I presume he felt that he must do something at all 
hazards to preserve the dignity of the trustees. ‘ When 
was Antigone born?’ he asked.” 

“ The idea! ” laughed Janet. 

“ It did phase the class for a minute,” admitted Ned. 
“ I don’t know whether the Doctor had lost sight of 
the fact that Antigone was a legendary and not an his- 
torical character, or whether he inadvertently used the 
name instead of Sophocles. At any rate, the question 
created something of a sensation in the class. Rame, 
however, never turned a hair* 

“ ‘ 1042 B. C.,’ he answered, with prompt confidence, 
and the Doctor nodded a solemn assent.” 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


2 99 


Ned’s story called forth a burst of laughter from 
the members of the party. 

“ Why, Mr. Benson!” said Janet, with gentle 
reproach, “ I wouldn’t have thought that of you.” 

“ You see, I had to protect the old Doctor at all 
hazards,” explained Raymond. 

“ What did ‘ The Owl ’ do ? ” asked Mansur. 

“ Why, he was all broken up,” returned Ned. “ He 
twisted about in his chair, and looked as if he were 
going to explode. Rame stood there as cool as a 
cucumber looking him in the eye with a bland smile 
as much as to say : ‘ Come on, old boy, call us down, 
if you dare.’ ” 

“ He couldn’t very well say anything without show- 
ing up the Doctor,” observed Mansur. 

“ That was just it,” said Ned. “ He couldn’t say a 
word to Rame without putting himself in a very awk- 
ward position. It was tough on him, I can tell you, 
for the old boy is a good deal of a Puritan. He swal- 
lowed once or twice, then said, ‘ That will do, Mr. 
Benson,’ and called up Harter.” 

“ I’m ashamed of you, Raymond,” said Clara, 
reproachfully. 

“ I think ‘ The Owl ’ was — at first,” admitted Ray- 
mond, “ especially when he looked into the grinning 
faces behind me, for of course the boys enjoyed it 
hugely. On reflection, however, I think he was con- 
vinced that my way out of the dilemma was the best. 
I caught him looking at me once or twice from under 


300 


THE KENTON PINES 


those shaggy eyebrows of his with just a suspicion of 
a twinkle in his eyes. He hasn’t mentioned the matter 
to me, so I conclude that he has forgiven me.” 

“ Speaking of examinations,” interposed Ned, “ you 
should have seen Scruton and Delby, last Friday. They 
had just gotten through their Latin examination, when 
in walked their minister from home. He’s an alumnus 
of the college, you know. After most of the boys had 
sung their song, the Professor asked him if he had 
any questions to propound. He said he thought not, 
but would be very glad to hear Mr. Scruton and Mr. 
Delby recite, and both the poor fellows were promptly 
pulled up again.” 

“ That reverend gentleman is certainly in no danger 
of being hanged for his tact,” commented Mansur, 
dryly. 

“ That’s what Scruton and Delby think,” laughed 
Ned. “ Both of them happened to strike hard sled- 
ding, and they were mad enough with him when they 
got through to have fed him to the cannibals.” 

Presently the rugged shore of Ledgy Point came in 
view, with its beautiful summer homes and picturesque 
ocean frontage. The horses were soon stabled, and a 
short time later the members of the party were enjoy- 
ing a clambake among the seamy ledges and boulders 
of the shore. It was still early evening when they drove 
leisurely back to Plainsville, aftfcr a most enjoyable 
outing. 

During the remainder of the week Raymond and 


THE CLOSE OF SOPHOMORE YEAR 


3 01 


Ned, having no required college exercises to make 
demands upon their time, devoted themselves assidu- 
ously to Mansur and the young ladies at the Amsden 
house. 

Wednesday afternoon occurred the annual baseball 
game between the college and the alumni teams, Keaton 
and Moody forming the battery for the alumni, and 
Raymond and Ned for the ’ Varsity. The contest, 
however, notwithstanding the fact that several of the 
positions on the ’ Varsity were filled by substitutes, was 
little more than a farce. The alumni were hopelessly 
outclassed, and were very glad to give up the unequal 
struggle after seven innings of play, with the score 
standing 17 to 2 in favor of the undergraduates. 

The Class day “ Dance on the Green,” the Com- 
mencement day graduating exercises, the alumni dinner, 
which immediately followed them, and the President’s 
reception in the evening, the closing function of the 
college year, were all largely attended and successful 
events. It was with regret that the members of “ the 
Sunny Sextet ” — as Mansur humorously called their 
party — bade each other good-by to go to their various 
ways for the long summer vacation. 

For Raymond and Ned the Sophomore year, with its 
“ strenuous life,” had come to a close. When they 
should return again to the “ classic halls ” of old Ken- 
ton it would be as upper-classmen. 


CHAPTER XXV 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 

“ Whew ! I’m clean fagged out ! ” 

Raymond Benson, in response to this announcement 
swung half round in his desk chair, and fixed his 
eyes upon his roommate, who, flushed and panting as 
from unusual exertion, had thrown himself upon the 
couch. 

“ I’m really ashamed of you, old man ! ” he declared 
with mock severity. “ You, an upper-classman — a 
titular prophet in the college Israel — monkeying round 
a Sophomore horn concert! O temporal O mores! 
Where is your dignity? ” 

“I never had any,” confessed Ned; “but honestly, 
old boy, you should have been there. It was rich ! I 
don’t know when Eve had so much fun for an age,” he 
added, with a laugh. 

Raymond’s face relaxed into a smile. 

“Were the Sophs hot?” he asked with kindling 
interest. 

“ Hot! ” exclaimed Ned. “Well, I should say they 
were. In fact they were boiling. Some of them fairly 
foamed at the mouth.” 

“ I can’t say that I blame them much,” was Ray- 
302 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 


303 


m 


mond’s comment. “ What business had our fellows 
interfering with them, anyway ? ” 

“ For their own good, old man,” returned Ned, 
imperturbably. “ Must wear their regular-sized hats, 
you know. I reckon if we hadn’t reduced the circum- 
ference of their craniums, to-night, they’d have been 
exchanging head gear with the Faculty.” 

“ Or even with the Seniors ! ” added Raymond, dryly. 

“ Thank heaven ! It was not quite as bad as that,” 
protested Ned, with fervor. 

“ Did you get all the horns ? ” pursued Raymond. 

“ Well, most of them. We’d have made a clean 
sweep if Prexy Hysom hadn’t put in an inopportune 
appearance.” 

“ Prexy Hysom ? ” echoed Raymond, in a tone of 
consternation. 

“ Yes. He got there just as the melee was at its 
height. It was so dark I don’t think that more than 
two or three of us recognized him.” 

“ He must have been highly edified,” suggested Ray- 
mond. 

“ I don’t see how he could help it,” laughed Ned. 
“ It was certainly a corking good show — full of vari- 
ety, and strenuous to the last degree. The ground was 
covered with battered hats, and the remnants of collars, 
cuffs and ties. Pussy Wilkes — he was the Sophs’ 
captain you know — was ass enough to wear that long 
gray four-button cutaway of his. Two of our fellows 
got hold of its tails, on either side, and ripped it up the 


304 


THE KENTON PINES 


back, along the seam, clear to the neck. I tell you he 
was a sight,” added Ned, laughing heartily at the recol- 
lection. 

Raymond’s face had relaxed into a broad grin. 

“ He must have been hot,” he commented. 

“Hot!” echoed Ned. “He was simply furious. 
Most of our fellows were bunched in a very lively scrap 
about Buster Bean, who carried a big horn at the head 
of the Soph procession. They were bound to get it 
away from him, and the Sophs were just as determined 
that they shouldn’t. I think the only reason Pussy 
hadn’t mixed in the fracas was his solicitude for that 
coat.” 

“ Which you laid vandal hands upon,” interposed 
Raymond, with a sudden conviction. 

Ned rose from the couch and gave his roommate a 
ceremonious bow. 

“ Sherlock,” he said, solemnly, “ you have, indeed, 
detected me.” 

“ I’m glad you recognize my powers of penetration,” 
laughed Raymond ; “ but what about Prexy Hysom ? ” 

“ I was just coming to that,” continued Ned. “ The 
minute Pussy felt the opening up of that coat he wanted 
to kill someone right away. He simply panted for 
gore. Fortunately there was no weapon at hand, but 
the sight of the old pump dimly outlined in the dusk 
at the end of Pioneer hall, was an inspiration to him. 
He made a wild dash for it, the halves of his coat 
streaming out behind, like the outspread wings of a 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 


305 


turkey gobbler. He was trying wildly to wrench the 
handle from its moorings, when Prexy appeared on the 
scene. The good Doctor’s coat collar was turned up 
about his ears, and he wore that three-story derby of his 
— that inverted bandbox you know.” 

Raymond rose from his seat and took a quick turn 
across the room. “ Well,” he demanded, pausing in 
front of Ned, “ what did the fellows do then?” 

“ Why, I don’t think they recognized him — that is, 
most of them,” said Ned. “ I guess Vic Evans thought 
he was a Freshman. Anyway the Prex had just opened 
his mouth to say ‘ Why, really, gentlemen,’ when Vic 
reached out that long arm of his and smashed the old 
boy’s hat down over his ears. Then — ” Ned paused, 
abruptly. 

“ Well, what then? ” persisted Raymond, impatiently. 

“ I lit out,” confessed Ned. “ You bet I didn’t want 
to be the first one in sight when Prexy got his blinders 
off.” 

“ This is simply scandalous ! ” commented Raymond. 
“ Here we are only a few days into Junior year, occupy- 
ing this coveted room in the Beta Mu Kappa chapter 
house — possessors, in fact, of about everything that 
can give elegance, ease and dignity to the estate of an 
upper-classman — and you mixing into a scrap like 
this! Ned, I’m ashamed of you.” 

“ I dare say,” responded Ned, with mock contrition; 
“ but you see, Rame, Nature did not give me such a 
good stock of dignity as she did you.” 


3°6 


THE KENTON PINES 


There was a sudden tramp of feet up the stairway 
and along the corridor. Presently an excited and 
vociferous group of Juniors came laughing and shouting 
into the room. 

“ You’re a good one!” cried Victor Evans, seating 
himself on the couch and throwing an arm around Ned, 
while his companions disposed themselves in easy atti- 
tudes about the room. 

“ Why, what have I done? ” demanded Ned. 

“What have you done? Just listen to that, fel- 
lows!” rejoined Evans. “Innocent as an old — ” 

“ Goat,” prompted Charlie Longley. 

“ You mean broncho,” amended Dick Harter. 
“ My ! but wasn’t that a hard gallop ! ” 

“ Right at the crisis, too,” interposed Wes Jarvis, 
who was dangling his long legs from the center- 
table. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Milton Floyd, solemnly, “ it seems 
to me as if this thing demanded some explanation. Let 
us not condemn our once worthy brother without a fair 
and impartial hearing.” 

“ Speech ! Speech ! ” came in chorus from the other 
members of the group. 

“You hear!” said Evans, sternly shaking Ned by 
the collar. “What hast thou to say, caitiff?” 

“ I must consult with my attorney, Mr. Benson, 
before submitting any statement,” returned Ned. 

“ You must plead your own cause,” declared Claude 
Redford. 



t ; 


I saw Vic knock Pkexy Hysom’s hat over his ears.” 

Page 307. 




























































































































EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 


307 


“ Certainly,” interposed Raymond. “ I cannot con- 
sent to act as counsel under such circumstances.” 

“ I could not, knowingly, be a party to a great, an 
atrocious, I may say a — a ferocious crime,” asserted 
Ned, rising to his feet. “ I stayed with you until I saw 
Vic knock Prexy Hysom’s hat over his ears. Then I 
thought it was high time to shake such an unregenerate 
crowd.” 

Ned’s announcement caused a distinct sensation. 

“ Prexy Hysom ! Come off ! What are you giving 
us ? ” exclaimed Evans, in consternation. 

“ Sure thing, old man,” asserted Ned. “ I saw you 
when you did it. . That’s what gave me the panic.” 

“ You’re stringing us,” declared Wendall Nye, 
incredulously. 

“Not a bit of it,” returned Ned, soberly. “ That’s 
gospel tryth, fellows,” and he proceeded to relate what 
he had seen at the height of the melee, a recital that 
called forth a burst of hearty, though somewhat rueful, 
laughter from his companions. 

“ Good Lord ! ” ejaculated Evans. “ I thought he 
was a Freshman.” 

“What did he say?” gasped Ned, when he could 
control his voice. 

“Never a yip!” returned Evans. “In fact I don’t 
remembe r to have seen him after I saluted him.” 

“ He got out of the crowd right lively,” said Dick 
Harter. “ I saw him taking a quick sneak off the 
campus ; but I didn’t have the slightest idea who it was.” 


3°8 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ It's evident that Prexy knows when it’s advisable to 
flit,” commented Milton Floyd. 

“ He is, indeed, wise unto his day and generation,” 
asserted Wes Jarvis, solemnly. 

“ ‘ There’s a time for disappearing 
Take a header — down you go ! ’ ” 

sang Lon Thurber, irreverently. 

“ I don’t think we’d better say much about this mat- 
ter, fellows,” advised Raymond. 

“ Mum’s the word,” cautioned Evans, promptly. “ I 
reckon Prexy won’t say anything about it, if we don’t.” 

The members of the group readily acceded to Ray- 
mond’s suggestion and pledged themselves to secrecy — 
a compact, that while depriving the undergraduate 
community of an exceptionally entertaining story, 
undoubtedly saved Evans from a large amount of 
good-natured chaffing. 

“ You missed one of the most entertaining features 
of the evening by lighting out so soon, Ned,” declared 
Dick Harter, an announcement which brought forth a 
shout of laughter from his companions. 

“ What further deviltry did you hoodlums engage 
in?” demanded Ned, suspiciously. 

“ Oh it was rich ! ” laughed Wes Jarvis. “ Tell them 
about it, Dick.” 

“ You see, we were coming along the walk in front 
of Pennington hall after our scrap with the Sophs,” 
explained Harter, “ when Bill Hodge, who had raced 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 309 

ahead of us, threw a pail of water down on us from the 
window of his room on the top floor/’ 

“Well, I never!” ejaculated Raymond, in amaze- 
ment. 

“ Decidedly brash, I should say for a last year’s 
Freshman,” commented Ned, indignantly. 

“ Exactly what we thought,” coincided Harter. “ So 
we proceeded to make an immediate call upon Brother 
Hodge.” 

“For the purpose of paying our respects,” explained 
Wes Jarvis. 

“ And wishing him the fullest returns of the season,” 
added Claude Redford. 

“ Yes, and for such other purposes as might properly 
come before the meeting,” continued Harter. 

“No doubt he was mighty glad to see you,” said 
Ned. 

“ Well, not so enthusiastically happy as you might 
suppose, considering the great honor we were paying 
him. In fact we found his door locked in our faces.” 

“ The wretch ! But that didn’t phase you,” suggested 
Raymond. 

“ Not in the least,” responded Harter. 

“ You see I have a key to all such doors ! ” explained 
Evans, gazing reflectively at the generous-sized shoe 
stretched out before him on his right foot. 

“ Just one application of it admitted us to the presence 
of the quaking Hodge,” continued Harter. 

“ He was rattled, was he?” asked Raymond. 


3 IQ 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Well just a trifle pale about the gills/’ admitted 
Harter, “ but still able to put on a good front. Threw 
out his chest like a bantam rooster ; reminded us that he 
was no longer a Freshman; and demanded to know 
what we meant by breaking into his room in that uncer- 
emonious and brutal manner.” 

“ All of which bluster went, no doubt,” was Ned’s 
smiling comment. 

“ Sad to say it didn’t,” declared Harter, solemnly. 

“ You should have heard Vic read him the riot act,” 
snickered Wes Jarvis. “ I tell you it was a master- 
piece.” 

“ Old Cicero himself couldn’t have done better,” 
declared Harter, with conviction. 

“ And your demands ? ” queried Raymond. 

“ Modest — very modest, considering our provoca- 
tion,” returned Harter. “ We simply asked him to 
stand upon the table in the center of the room, apologize 
for his rudeness, and assure us that our class was 
unquestionably the finest one at Kenton.” 

“ He certainly couldn’t buck at that! ” declared Ned. 

“ But he did though, incredible as it may seem,” said 
Harter. “ In fact he asserted that he’d die first.” 

“ His opportunities were fairly good for doing so,” 
was Raymond’s grim comment. 

“ Upon further reflection,” pursued Harter, “ he 
thought it would be better to fly than to die.” 

“ So to the door near by, he quickly did hie,” inter- 
posed Wes Jarvis, soberly. 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 


311 


“ The poet has spoken/’ laughed Harter. 

“ But I venture to say he got not away,” added 
Ned. 

“ No for he happened to land in Vic Evans’ hand,” 
explained Harter. 

“ Is this an ode or an epic? ” demanded Raymond. 

“ An epic — and strictly historical,” declared Harter. 
“ It was a comical sight to see Vic holding the frantic 
Hodge on the couch,” he continued, “ Bill all the while 
trying desperately to call for help.” 

“ He’d have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for Vic’s 
hand,” explained Milton Floyd. 

“ How did you finally bring him to terms ? ” asked 
Raymond, impatiently. 

“ Why, Wes brought out the shoe brush and blacking 
from the closet and assured him that if our modest and 
reasonable demands were not complied with in three 
minutes, we should forthwith convert him into a canni- 
bal chief, and that we didn’t much care which horn of 
his dilemma he chose to select. That brought him to 
terms.” 

“ Gee ! But wasn’t he mad, though,” laughed Evans. 
“ The tears fairly rolled down his cheeks. Still, we 
must do him the credit to say that he took his medicine, 
bitter as it was, like a little man.” 

“ Yes. He did a very polished job,” admitted Har- 
ter. “ I wish you fellows could have heard the fatherly 
advice Vic gave him at parting.” 

“ He knows now exactly ho w to conduct himself 


3 12 


THE KENTON PINES 


towards members of the Junior class,” added Milton 
Floyd. 

“ Let him henceforth be known as a reformed Sopho- 
more,” said Raymond, a suggestion that called forth a 
burst of laughter from his companions. 

“ I’m mighty sorry I wasn’t with you,” sighed Ned, 
regretfully. 

“ So are we ; but I guess we can forgive you, old 
man,” returned Evans. 

“ I move you, Mr. Chairman,” said Milton Floyd, 
addressing Jarvis, “ that the charges of timidity and 
desertion pending against Brother Grover be dis- 
missed.” 

The motion was put and carried with hearty una- 
nimity, soon after which the callers dispersed to their 
various rooms. 

The Junior year had indeed opened most auspiciously 
for Raymond and Ned, who had returned from a vaca- 
tion most pleasantly spent at Chestnut, to take up new 
and convenient quarters in the spacious and beautiful 
chapter house of the Beta Mu Kappa fraternity. 

It was not without a feeling of regret that they left 
Abbott hall, with its wealth of pleasant associations; 
but they were already finding a ready recompense for 
the change, in the closer associations with the members 
of their class and Senior delegations afforded by the 
chapter house life. 

The day following the Sophomore horn concert, the 
two lower classes engaged in a rope-pull in front of the 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 313 

Chapel. It looked at the start as if the Freshmen, with 
their superior weight and greater numerical strength, 
would prove easy winners in this event, and redeem 
themselves to some extent for the defeat the Sopho- 
mores, as a result of their superior organization, had in- 
flicted upon them in the football match, and the Water- 
loo the newcomers had suffered in the baseball contest 
as a result of their inability to hit Scruton’s baffling 
delivery. To their surprise, however, the Sophomores 
held them fast. Although they braced desperately, and 
pulled until they were quite winded and exhausted, they 
were unable to gain an inch. A group of grinning 
upper-classmen crowded about them evidently enjoying 
their discomfiture. A last frantic pull on the part of the 
panting and perspiring Freshmen only resulted in break- 
ing the cable. As they scrambled to their feet, amid 
the boisterous laughter and chaffing remarks of the 
upper-classmen, they discovered, to their rage and cha- 
grin, that the Sophomore end of the big rope had been 
securely tied to the trunk of a big tree, and that while 
their opponents had ostensibly offered a stubborn resist- 
ance, they had not in fact pulled a single pound. Their 
feelings were not improved by the further discovery 
that the trick was an old one in Kenton history. 

The Sophomore class at once called for a new rope, 
and an immediate renewal of the contest; but Ned Gro- 
ver, acting as referee for the Freshmen, refused to 
entertain the request, on the ground that the contest in 
view of the exhausted condition of the members of the 


3 H THE KENTON PINES 

lower class would not be a fair one. As a result the 
event was postponed until the following day, when the 
Freshmen were successful in winning a much-coveted 
victory. 

The strength which enabled the Freshman class to 
win in this event, also enabled it to contribute to the 
football squad several husky players, most of whom 
had learned the game in their preparatory schools. 
This acquisition of strength, especially in the person of 
a new quarterback, was sorely needed, for the veteran 
player who had occupied that important position for 
three consecutive seasons on the Kenton eleven had 
gone out with the graduating class. New men, how- 
ever, require, at best, a large amount of coaching to play 
football up to the ’Varsity standard, and although the 
Kenton eleven was able to enter into the season with an 
exceptionally heavy and for the most part veteran 
team, it did not achieve winning form until too late in 
the fall to secure a lead in the race. As a result the 
close of the season found it occupying third position in 
the league, while Boles brought up in the rear, and the 
championship went to Case. 

Raymond and Ned played throughout the series in 
their respective positions as fullback and right end. 
Both were fortunate in escaping injuries, and their 
strong consistent work was one of the redeeming fea- 
tures of Kenton’s play. 

On the whole, however, the supporters of Kenton felt 
that they had no reason to feel discouraged, and, with 


EARLY INCIDENTS OF JUNIOR YEAR 315 

an exceptionally strong nucleus of experienced players, 
who would remain in college at the close of the year 
looked forward hopefully to the next season’s campaign 
upon the gridiron. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


HAZING THE MEDICS 

A number of the academic undergraduates of Kenton 
College were assembled in the back part of the big 
amphitheatre of the Medical building, to welcome the 
old and newcomers in that department, and incidentally, 
to listen to the lecture which opened up the Medical 
year, and which the general public was privileged to 
attend. 

The welcome extended to all comers was vociferously 
personal in character, and delightfully free from any- 
thing that savored of partiality. As Ned Grover 
expressed it, every one “ got all that was coming to 
him.” 

One after another the newcomers had run the gaunt- 
let of admonition and witticism, until nearly half the 
seats in the big room were filled with grinning and 
expectant students. 

Presently the big door at the back of the room swung 
open to admit a tall, raw-boned youth, who paused for 
a moment irresolutely upon the threshold, with the diffi- 
dence and uncertainty of one not sure of his ground. 

His appearance was instantly the signal for the usual 
stentorian chorus. 

“ Come in! ” “ Sit down.” “ Take off that hat! ” 

ai6 


HAZING THE MEDICS 


317 


“Where are your manners, sir?” “Remove that 
coat!” “Shoot the necktie!” “Be seated!” 
“Move sir!” “Sit down!” Sit down!” “Will 
you sit down, sir ! ” 

For a moment the tall fellow looked in wild-eyed 
bewilderment from one side of the aisle to the other, 
turned completely about in his embarrassment, and then, 
with a very red face, sat abruptly down upon the steps 
of the amphitheatre amid the uproarious laughter of his 
tormentors, who immediately turned their faces to the 
door to await the arrival of a new victim. 

He was not long in making his appearance in the 
person of a stockily-built young fellow with a clean-cut, 
intelligent face, and piercing black eyes. He was 
neatly attired in the latest fashion, his most conspicu- 
ous apparel being a stylishly cut light-colored overcoat. 

Immediately after the usual salutations this garment 
became the target of the crowd’s witticism. 

“ Shoot the gown ! ” “ Get onto his Robe of State ! ” 

“The Black Prince in summer outfit!” “Hail, Maj- 
esty, Hail ! ” “ Remove that coat, sir ! ” 

As the subject of the remarks made his way, with 
studied deliberation, down the steps of the central aisle 
of the amphitheatre his heightening color indicated his 
rising wrath. Presently he turned and faced his inquis- 
itors with blazing eyes. 

“ You’re a pack of cowards! A crowd of jackals! ” 
he cried, passionately. “ If there’s one of you who is 
man enough to take this coat off, let him try it.” 


3i8 


THE KENTON PINES 


A yell of derisive laughter greeted this challenge. 
Evidently the crowd was deriving no end of amusement 
from the newcomer’s angry ebullition. 

“ Faith! it’s old John L. Sullivan himself,” shouted a 
voice from the rear of the room, to the uproarious 
amusement of the assembled students who forthwith 
dubbed the wrathful Freshman “ John L,” a name that 
was destined to cling to him during his entire course. 

Victor Evans, who sat on one of the rear seats with a 
group of his classmates, had risen excitedly to his feet, 
when Raymond Benson laid a detaining hand upon his 
coat-tails. 

“ Where are you going, Vic? ” he asked. 

“ Going ? Why, I’m going down and take that fel- 
low’s coat off,” responded Evans, coolly. 

“ Sit down, old man. Don’t make an ass of your- 
self,” admonished Dick Harter, sharply. “ Don’t you 
realize that this is all horse-play ? ” 

“ That’s all very well,” retorted Evans, “ but didn’t 
you hear him call us cowards and jackals, and didn’t he 
defy the whole college ? ” 

“ Yes,” interrupted Milton Floyd, “ and didn’t we all 
bait him ? Sit down, you old firecracker ! ” 

“ Perhaps he thinks no one can take that coat off,” 
growled Evans, resentfully. 

“ No, he doesn’t,” laughed Ned Grover. “ See, he’s 
doing it himself now.” 

The newcomer, with the sweat trickling down his 
flushed cheeks, was even then in the act of removing 


HAZING THE MEDICS 


319 


his overcoat, which he placed beneath him on one of 
the seats beside the aisle, in an obvious relief at hiding 
it from view. It was evident that he was already 
beginning to feel somewhat ashamed of his peppery 
exhibition. 

This fact seemed to mollify Evans, who resumed his 
seat, just as the door opened to admit Charlie Mansur. 
The tall fellow bowed blandly to one side and then the 
other of the big amphitheatre in response to the usual 
vociferous welcome that greeted his appearance. His 
face was wreathed in a good-natured smile, which left 
no doubt that he both appreciated and entered into the 
spirit of the occasion. 

“ Sit down ! ” “ Sit down, sir ! ” came in stentorian 

tones from the students in the seats. 

“ Thanks, cheerful idiots ! ” returned Mansur, coolly. 
“ I prefer to stand,” — whereupon pandemonium again 
broke loose. 

“ Stale ! Mighty stale, fellows,” announced Mansur, 
critically. “ Give us something new — the college 
cheer. Are you ready, gentlemen ? K — E — N — 
T — O — N — ’ Rah ! ’rah! ’rah!” 

The students present followed Mansur’s lead and the 
big room fairly shook with the enthusiasm of the famil- 
iar yell. For a time newcomers were given an oppor- 
tunity to find their seats in peace, while most of those 
already in the room joined enthusiastically in singing 
the familiar strains of the old “ Chi Phi.” 

Presently the lecturer made his appearance followed 


320 


THE KENTON PINES 


by members of the Medical faculty, who took their seats 
behind the speaker on the floor of the auditorium. 
Immediately the room became quiet and the Professor 
of Medical Jurisprudence, who had been chosen to 
deliver the opening lecture of the Medical year, was 
accorded respectful attention. 

As Raymond reached the sidewalk, at the close of 
the discourse, he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He 
turned quickly to meet the smiling face of Charlie Man- 
sur, with its familiar penetrating glance, at once so quiz- 
zical and enigmatical, and to hear him inquire in his 
careless way, “ Is this your busy day ? ” 

“ Why, no — not specially so,” returned Raymond, 
with a smile. “ I was going to work a while in the 
gymnasium with Ned and the members of the baseball 
squad.” 

“ Better cut it and come with me,” advised Mansur. 
“ Ned has three other pitchers to wrestle with, and it 
won’t be any novelty for him to catch you. I only 
wonder that you haven’t worn out his hands years ago, 
with your ceaseless pounding.” 

“ I would, if he hadn’t grown new tissue,” laughed 
Raymond. “ Where do you want to take me ? ” 

“To my den. * Will you walk into my parlor? said 
the spider to the fly. ’ Tis the prettiest little parlor that 
ever you did spy/ ” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Spider,” responded Raymond, 
promptly. “ I would like to see what sort of a curiosity 
shop you have made of it.” 


HAZING THE MEDICS 


3 21 


“ There are no anatomical specimens there/' chuckled 
Mansur. “ You know I never did like the dry bones 
of things,” 

“ Not if you had to dig them out,” laughed Raymond. 

Mansur shook his head, mournfully. 

“ Alas ! ” said he, “ that any man should know my 
limitations as you do. It’s worse than the violet rays 
in reducing one's bump of self-conceit. Did you have 
a good time, this afternoon ? ” he added, abruptly. 

“ It was a change,” returned Raymond, evasively. 

“ There was certainly nothing conventional about it,” 
chuckled Mansur. 

“ The most amusing thing about it to me,” returned 
Raymond, “ was the consummate ease with which you 
bagged the whole flock. Two minutes after you came 
among us we had forgotten all about our original pro- 
gramme and were singing old “ Chi Phi ” with all the 
gusto of a musical discovery.” 

“ You were all ripe for a change,” chuckled Mansur. 
“ I merely gathered you in.” 

“ Took us in, you mean,” retorted Raymond. 

“ As you wish,” said Mansur, lightly. “ Do you 
believe in the original programme? ” he added in a more 
serious tone. 

“ I’ll give you a Yankee answer,” returned Raymond. 
“ Do you?” 

“ No,” returned Mansur, promptly. “ I do not. Of 
course it's all intended to be good-natured sport! but 
such banter — jovial though it may be — is very apt to 


322 


THE KENTON PINES 


leave unpleasant feelings behind, and to create the 
erroneous impression among the Medical students that 
the fellows in the Academic department are not in 
sympathy with them, and have no desire for fellow- 
ship with them.” 

Raymond was strongly impressed by Mansur’s ear- 
nestness. 

“ What would you have us do about it ? ” he asked. 

“ Cut the whole business out,” returned Mansur, 
promptly. “ Do away with these opening lecture farces, 
and have the Kenton Clarion extend a cordial wel- 
come to the members of the department at the opening 
of the Medical year, instead of making them targets 
for its witticisms — such as these for instance,” and 
drawing from his pocket a copy of the offending publica- 
tion, he read as follows : 

“ ‘ It is said that the geography of the earth has been 
sadly disarranged of late by some of the Freshmen 
Medics. The history of the world has also undergone 
a miraculous transformation. The ancient heroes will 
have to rise and assert their rights.’ ” 

“ That is a trifle far-fetched,” admitted Raymond. 

“ I’ve no doubt that there are some literary and edu- 
cational gems among the Medical examination papers,” 
said Mansur, “ but that is equally true of such docu- 
ments in the Academic department. I know,” he added, 
with a dry chuckle, “ because I’ve contributed a few of 
’em myself. Fellows who live in glass houses should 
be careful with their bow-guns.” 


HAZING THE MEDICS 


3 2 3 


“A new rendering of an old adage,” smiled Ray- 
mond. 

“ How’s this ? ” continued Mansur with his nose in 
the Clarion, ignoring Raymond’s comment. “ ‘ There 
are many warm advocates of phonetic spelling among 
the new Medics.’ ” 

“ That seems to be simply a statement of truth — a 
plain unvarnished tale,” rejoined Raymond. 

“ There are varieties of truth that a tactful man never 
speaks,” said Mansur. “ This whole issue seems to be 
specially dedicated to the Medical department. Just 
listen to this.” 

“ 1 Scat cat ! What air ye about ? 

The Medic man’ll git ye — 

If ye don’t watch out ! ' ” 

“ Not altogether faultless in matter or metre,” 
admitted Raymond. 

“ Strange,” continued Mansur, reflectively, “ how 
strong is the conviction among the good people of this 
otherwise sane and sensible town that Medical students 
are ruthless purloiners of cats. The fellows in our 
department are sure to be credited with the demise of 
all pussies that die a natural death during term time. 
What do you think of this ? ” he added, continuing his 
reading. 

“ ‘ And now the merry Medic comes 
To haunt our streets once more, 

And kill all tuneful Thomas cats 
That prove themselves a bore. 

So let us cease to load him with 
Gratuitous abuses, 


THE KENTON PINES 


3 2 4 


For in this good old town at least 
The Medic has his uses. 

Yet very soon the time will come 
(The Lord preserve us!) when 
He’ll cease from killing Thomas cats 
And try his hand at men.’ ” 

Mansur finished his reading with the thin chuckle that 
was characteristic of him when amused. “ That wasn’t 
altogether bad,” he commented, as he folded up the 
Clarion and replaced it in his pocket. 

“ You old rascal ! ” laughed Raymond. “ You know 
you enjoy it better than anyone else. How could you 
possibly criticise it — you who were wont to write 
“ Oweds of Welcome ” to the Freshman classes after 
your first year in the Academic department ? ’* 

“ How, indeed ? ” sighed Mansur. “ Do you know,” 
he added, with a droll light in his eyes, “ I really think 
those old rhymes of mine did a lot of good. They 
enabled Freshmen to get a quick conception of the col- 
lege point of view, and were, therefore, instructive as 
well as stimulating.” 

“ Undoubtedly,” conceded Raymond, “ but not nearly 
as rapid in producing results as our welcome to the 
Medics.” 

Mansur laughed, ruefully. 

“ I’m a mighty poor hand to preach reform,” he 
admitted, “ owing to my unfortunate tendency to stray 
into byways and hedges. Still, you know what I 
mean.” 

“ Certainly,” said Raymond, “ and I pledge you my 


HAZING THE MEDICS 325 

best efforts to help bring about the change you desire. 
We must make the members of the Medical department 
feel that they have a common interest with us in every- 
thing that pertains to the life of the college. ,, 

“ You have the right idea of it,” said Mansur, approv- 
ingly? “ and I know that you can do more than any 
other one fellow to bring it about. Well, here we are,"’ 
he added, as they reached the front steps of the Amsden 
house. “ I have just been fitting out a den with the 
assistance of my aunt and cousin, and I specially want 
your criticism and suggestion.” 

“If you have had two such advisers as they are, there 
can be nothing for me to add,” asserted Raymond with 
conviction, as he followed Mansur into the house. 

The tall Medic’s “ den ” left nothing to be desired. 
A cheerful fire burned in the open grate. The sides of 
the room were filled with sectional book-cases, whose 
contents made it evident that even the severe exactions 
of a medical course did not engross all of Mansur’s time. 

On one side of the grate, against the south wall, was 
a large fiat-top desk. Heavy rugs and draperies in per- 
fect harmony contributed to the comfort and cheer of 
the room. It was in the decoration of the walls, how- 
ever, that the peculiar genius of Mansur was specially 
apparent. There, grouped with an appearance of care- 
lessness, and yet with most happy effect, were the treas- 
ured souvenirs of his college course — many of which 
were already familiar to Raymond. 

Mansur was frankly pleased at Raymond’s delight 


326 


THE KENTON PINES 


in the room, and insisted that both he and Ned should 
feel that they had a personal share in it, inasmuch as 
its latch-string would ever hang out for them. 

As Raymond opened the front door, on his return to 
his own room, he came face to face with Janet Amsden, 
who was just returning from a call. 

“ Don’t let me scare you away,” she laughed, as she 
extended a gloved hand. “ Really, you’re getting to be 
quite a stranger. Now that Charlie is here I hope we 
may see more of both you and your roommate.” 

“ We’ve already come as often as we could find rea- 
sonable excuse for doing so,” confessed Raymond. 

“ And now you won’t need any,” was the smiling 
response. 

“ Are you engaged for the dancing school and Ger- 
mans, this term,” continued Raymond. 

“ No.” 

“ Then possibly you might take compassion on me.” 

“ I should be pleased to go with you,” responded 
Janet, promptly. 

“ Thank you very much,” said Raymond, as he lifted 
his hat in parting. 

The walk back to the Chapter house was full of an 
exhilaration for Raymond. The world was indeed radi- 
ant with sunshine and he was getting his share of it. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 

The winter term was, as usual, the season for the 
inauguration of the customary college social events. 
These, in accordance with time-honored usage, were 
under the general charge of the Junior class, and con- 
sisted of a course of lessons in dancing under a famous 
Bayburg instructor, followed by a series of Germans 
and assemblies. 

Raymond considered himself exceptionally fortunate 
in having Janet Amsden as his partner in these events, 
while Ned was equally well pleased to attend them in 
company with Clara Benson, who was spending the 
winter at a private school for young ladies in Bayburg, 
and who came to Plainsville to participate in these occa- 
sions as the guest of the Amsdens. 

Mansur at first decided to put away social blandish- 
ments, and devote himself exclusively to his studies; 
but promptly changed his mind upon the unexpected 
arrival of Alice Mercer, who declared that not even 
the terrors of a New England winter could keep her 
out of such a charmed circle. 

Ned, fully conscious of the responsibilities resting 
upon him as Captain of the baseball team, had trained 
327 


328 


THE KENTON PINES 


his squad in the gymnasium with conscientious faithful- 
ness. In this work he was strongly aided by Raymond, 
who, despite his established reputation in Kenton athlet- 
ics, did not permit himself to grow lax in observing the 
requirements of training. This refusal to acquire a 
“ big head ” was the source of no little of his popularity 
with his fellow students. 

The team had lost only Arnold, third baseman, and 
Bither, short-stop, by graduation — and was fortunate 
in having some good material with which to fill their 
places. Delby, the heavy-hitting Sophomore, was 
brought in from left field to fill the vacant position at 
third base, his place in the out-field being taken by 
Maurice Quimby, a Freshman, the former husky 
catcher of the Stewart Academy nine. 

Don Barlow had entered the Freshman class from 
Krampton, insuring a strong player at short-field in 
place of Bither. In connection with his own practice, 
Raymond took charge of the candidates for the pitcher’s 
box — three in number, and devoted considerable time 
to their development. The most promising of the trio 
was Scruton of the Sophomore class, who had already 
done some very creditable work in the box. Under 
Raymond’s tuition he improved very rapidly during his 
Sophomore winter in speed, command of the ball, 
curves, and change of pace — in short all the elements 
that enter into the make-up of a successful pitcher. 
Some of his classmates even ventured the prediction 
that he would bea“ better man than Benson next sea- 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 329 


son.” Scruton, however, was a level-headed fellow, 
who had a genuine admiration for Raymond, and was 
keenly conscious of all he owed to his instruction. 
When, therefore, his admiring classmates undertook to 
compare his work with Raymond's he never failed to 
express his conviction to the contrary. 

“ Bosh ! ” he would say, impatiently, “ Benson forgets 
more about pitching over night than the rest of us ever 
knew.” 

The two Freshman aspirants for the box, while fairly 
promising, had much to learn. Sam Fellows was tall, 
and, as his admirers expressed it, “ had a barrel of 
speed,” but unfortunately his control was poor, his 
curves uncertain, and change of pace an accomplishment 
beyond his attainment, and almost beyond his concep- 
tion. 

Leon Lippert had good command of the ball, and 
sharp curves. He was, however, but eighteen years 
of age, and had grown very rapidly — a fact that 
accounted largely for his lack of speed. Raymond, 
however, felt that this would come in time, and devoted 
a great deal of effort to Leon's development, fully con- 
vinced that before the end of his college course the 
youthful Freshman would become one of Kenton's 
mainstays in the box. 

While the winter term was not without its pleasures 
— especially to members of the Junior class, all the 
undergraduates were glad when it finally ran its weary 
length, and the college closed for the spring vacation. 


33 ° 


THE KENTON PINES 


Raymond and Ned remained at Plainsville putting in 
some hard work on their studies, in view of the time 
when they would be obliged to lose during the spring 
and summer term because of athletic engagements. 

Their studies were duly “ seasoned ” with some good 
hard battery practice, and a very pleasant evening at 
the Amsdens’. 

Raymond declared that his arm was never in bet- 
ter shape, while Ned asserted that he was “ fit to 
kill.” 

April 13th brought the college again at the begin- 
ning of the closing term of the year. The snow and ice 
were not yet off the diamond ; but the students were too 
impatient to await the slow process of nature. Teams 
were procured, and, in a short time, the field, although 
still heavy with moisture and somewhat muddy in 
places, was in readiness for practice. 

But it is not necessary for us to follow the Kenton 
ball team through the experiences of Junior year, under 
the able leadership of Ned Grover. The qualities of 
that leadership are already known to the reader. It is 
sufficient to say, therefore, that the season, though not 
without its vicissitudes, resulted in bringing the cham- 
pionship to Kenton for the third consecutive time. 
While Scruton was used in the box considerably more 
than in his Freshman year, and while he showed a 
decided improvement over his earlier form, the bulk of 
the work at critical times fell upon Raymond, who was 
able to rise to every emergency and to maintain his 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 33 1 

recognized superiority over the other pitchers of the 
league. 

A pleasant feature of Junior year to both Ray- 
mond and Ned was their life at the beautiful Beta Mu 
Kappa Chapter house, where, surrounded by their class- 
mates and the senior members of the fraternity, they 
constituted a big, harmonious, and altogether happy col- 
lege family. There were twelve suites of rooms for 
students — each suite containing a study and bedroom, 
and occupied by two students. The society hall, where 
the members of the fraternity held their regular Thurs- 
day evening meetings, was on the third floor. The 
members of the fraternity all took their meals at the 
Chapter house, with the exception of several whose 
homes were in Plainsville, and one of the pleasantest 
features of the college life were the gatherings about 
the piano in the big hallway and reception-room, fol- 
lowing meals, especially in the early evening, and the 
abandon and enthusiasm with which the popular college 
and fraternity songs were sung on those occasions. 

“ There’s music in the air,” announced Charlie Long- 
ley, briefly, one noon as he took his seat at the table 
between Raymond and Ned. 

A look of inquiry from the boys about the table 
greeted this announcement. 

“ What’s up?” demanded Ned, speaking for the 
group. 

“ Oh, nothing much. The Freshmen have been 
jumping out of the pasture a little — that’s all.” 


33 2 


THE KENTON PINES 


All eyes were turned upon Case Benner, who had 
chanced to be the only Sophomore at the table. 

“ How about this, Case?” inquired Raymond. 

The Sophomore flushed uneasily. 

“ I know very little about it,” he responded with some 
hesitation, “ only what Kirk Farnsworth said.” 

“Kirk Farnsworth?” repeated Victor Evans, 
incredulously. 

“ Why, yes. He says a lot of Freshmen gathered in 
the Penley brothers’ room last night and sang ‘ Chi 
Phi,’ ” returned Benner. 

“‘Chi Phi!’ Ye Gods, what desecration!” 
exclaimed Victor Evans, dramatically. 

“ Alas ! Is the old Spartan spirit dead at Kenton ? ” 
inquired Lon Thurber, mournfully. 

“ These are certainly bucolic times in the old college,” 
declared Dick Harter, in solemn tones. 

* Benner looked decidedly red and uncomfortable 
under these comments. 

“ Rats ! ” he said, testily. “ We shall want some- 
thing more than Kirk Farnsworth’s word to make us 
believe that yarn.” 

“ Is it possible that none of your class heard those 
harrowing strains ? ” demanded Evans in a tone of skep- 
ticism. 

“ Be cautious, my boy,” warned Ned. “ We all love 
you; but don’t impose too much upon our credulity.” 

“ Go on ! Rub it in ! That’s what I said,” declared 
Benner, with a grin. “ I’m the target for this table.” 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 333 

“ Seems to me I heard something about the Sophs 
having a peanut drunk,” suggested Raymond. 

“ We had that Freshman year,” retorted Benner. 

“ I never heard of it,” declared Raymond. “ Did 
you, fellows?” 

“ Never!” came in solemn chorus from the upper- 
classmen about the table. 

“ Oh, shucks! You — , ” began Benner, warmly. 

“ You needn't apologize, Case,” interposed Victor 
Evans, affably. “ Considering the character of the 
Sophomore class last year — ah, present company of 
course excepted — you were quite excusable in deciding 
to postpone that hazardous event to some more favor- 
able season — weren't they, fellows ? ” 

“ Certainly.” “ Of course,” came in prompt chorus 
from the others at the table. 

“ This isn’t fair,” protested Benner. “ It's too many 
against one. You fellows know we had our peanu^ 
drunk in the fall term of the Freshman year — and 
mighty well torn out about it, you were, too, when you 
woke up to the fact, next morning.” 

A shout of laughter from the adjoining table, where 
a number of Sophomores were seated, greeted this sally. 

“ That's right, old man, soak it to 'em,” came in 
approving chorus, to Benner’s very evident satisfaction. 

“Come! Come!” interposed Ned, good-naturedly. 
“ Let's drop ancient history. Even if we should permit 
ourselves to credit your preposterous yarn, it wouldn’t 
explain why you fellows — the self-constituted guard- 


334 


THE KENTON PINES 


ians of Kenton’s ancient honor and dignity — should 
permit the Freshmen to sing 4 Chi Phi.’ ” 

44 We never did! ” declared Benner, warmly. “ That 
was merely a pipe dream of Kirk Farnsworth. I don’t 
see what led you fellows to let a poultice like him repre- 
sent you on the jury in the Junior year,” he added with 
rising color. 

44 Be calm, my boy. Remember you are referring to 
an upper-classman,” admonished Victor Evans. 

44 A Junior way sometimes passeth Sophomoric 
understanding,” observed Dick Harter, sagely. 

44 What possible grudge can Farnsworth have against 
the Penley brothers ? ” asked Raymond, with an evident 
desire to change the subject, which was taking a some- 
what personal turn. 

44 Is it possible that you don’t know ? ” returned Ben- 
ner, incredulously. 

44 I’m sure I don’t.” 

44 Why, he thought they were responsible for lining 
up the Freshman class against him when he was a candi- 
date for President of the Reading Room Association.” 

44 1 should have thought the vote would have shown 
him that their views had mighty little to do with the 
matter,” asserted Ned. 

44 It would — if he hadn’t been so infernally con- 
ceited,” responded Benner. 44 As it was, however, he 
learned that the Penley boys had been quite active 
in their opposition to him, and seemed to hold them 
specially responsible for his defeat. I suppose he 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 335 


thought it would be safer to vent himself upon a Fresh- 
men — the big coward ! ” he added, wrathfully. 

“ You think that accounts for the supernatural acute- 
ness of his hearing — do you ? ” asked Evans. 

“ Sure. The fellows in the end knew the Freshmen 
were having a little jamboree in the Penleys’ room, and 
heard them singing; but strange to say, Kirk Farns- 
worth was the only one who heard them sing ‘ Chi 
Phi/ ” 

“What do the Freshmen say about it?” demanded 
Ned. 

“ They say that they didn’t sing ‘ Chi Phi.’ ” 

“ Better take their word for it,” advised Claude Red- 
ford. 

“ That’s what we thought,” returned Benner, evi- 
dently gratified at this endorsement of the course pur- 
sued by his class. 

A few moments later the members of the fraternity 
were gathered about the piano in the reception-room 
where, with the strange and amusing inconsistency that 
weaves in and out of college customs and traditions, they 
joined with gusto and enthusiasm in the singing of 
“ Chi Phi,” irrespective of class distinctions. 

“ I suppose you’ve heard the outcome of that alleged 
4 Chi Phi ’ business in the Penleys’ room,” asked Ned, 
upon his return from a trip to the post-office, that eve- 
ning. 

“ Why, no,” returned Raymond, laying down the 
book he was reading. “ What about it ? ” 


336 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Somebody went into their room while they were in 
the Latin recitation this afternoon and raised — ” 

“Ned?” interposed Raymond. 

“No — Cain,” laughed Ned, “and Merry Cain at 
that. Their furniture was broken. A nice new dic- 
tionary torn to pieces, and their clothing and furniture 
smeared with tar. The fellows who saw the wreck 
said it was a sight.” 

“ That was mighty dirty business ! ” exclaimed Ray- 
mond, indignantly. 

“ Everybody seems to think so,” acquiesced Ned. 

“ Who do you suppose did it? ” 

“ I don’t know — although, as the Plainsville con- 
stable said ‘ I have my suspicions.’ What would you 
be in favor of doing with him, Rame, if he were 
caught ?” 

“ Do with him? ” returned Raymond, hotly. “ Why 
smear him with tar, and ride him off the campus on a 
rail.” 

Ned glanced at his roommate with mock relief. 

“ I was afraid you’d be in favor of burning him at 
the stake,” he sighed. 

“ Not quite so bad as that,” smiled Raymond. “ I 
should be provoked with you, old fellow, for your 
apparently frivolous way of treating the matter, if I did 
not know that away down deep you feel just as I do 
about it. You say you have your suspicions. Whom 
do you suspect? ” 

“ Kirk Farnsworth! ” 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 33 J 

“Kirk Farnsworth!” repeated Raymond, in amaze- 
ment. “ Surely you — ” 

“ I do,” interposed Ned, with decision. “ He was the 
last fellow seen in the vicinity of the Penleys , room 
after they left it for the Latin recitation.” 

“ Well, the jury will certainly probe the matter to 
the very bottom,” declared Raymond, confidently. 

“The jury!” repeated Ned, a little scornfully. 
“ You remember that we are accommodating enough to 
let Farnsworth represent us this year in that august 
body simply because he wanted the honor a good deal 
more than any of the rest of us did.” 

“ Very true,” conceded Raymond, regretfully. “ The 
class thought it might be well enough to let him hold 
at least one office before he graduated, especially as he 
had been on his good behavior since his break in Sopho- 
more year. It was a weak thing to do. We should 
have known better. I recognized the force in Benner’s 
criticism this noon, though I didn’t feel like affording 
him any satisfaction by admitting it.” 

“ I felt the same way,” declared Ned, “ and that isn’t 
the worst of it. I’m afraid Farnsworth isn’t the only 
hole in the skimmer. We’ve been altogether too com- 
placent all around. That panel is a mighty weak organ- 
ization to be charged with the dispensation of justice 
here at Kenton.” 

“ It seems to have been elected upon the supposition 
that it would never be called upon for that purpose,” 
assented Raymond, dryly. 


338 


THE KENTON PINES 


The estimate of the college jury entertained by Ray- 
mond and Ned was fully justified by their action upon 
the Penley outrage. A few meetings were held behind 
closed doors, but without result, and the matter was 
soon dropped. Considerable indignation was felt 
throughout the college at this outcome of the affair, 
especially by members of the Freshman class, who were 
convinced that they had been deliberately discriminated 
against in the whole matter. 

“ This is pretty hot stuff,” remarked Ned to Ray- 
mond, about a week later, as he passed him one of the 
Bayburg morning papers containing a column of Ken- 
ton correspondence. Reading down this column Ray- 
mond came to the following comment: 

“ There is a very general feeling that, in its present 
hands at least, the Kenton jury system is a good deal of 
a failure. Not long ago a case was put into the hands 
of this body, which certainly deserved its most careful 
consideration. The jury at once went to work, held 
various secret meetings, looked wise, talked mysteri- 
ously of the affair, continuing the farce until there was 
little doubt as to the identity of the culprit, and then 
voted to drop the whole matter. Surely a jury of such 
supernatural abilities is too grand a thing for Kenton 
and deserves to be pensioned off.” 

“ There’s more truth than fiction in that, I fear,” was 
Raymond’s comment, as he returned the paper to Ned. 

As the students came out of the chapel, at the close of 
prayers, Raymond paused for a moment to look at a call 


A FRESHMAN GATHERING AND WHAT FOLLOWED 339 

for a college meeting which was tacked upon the 
bulletin-board. It read as follows: 

“ NOTICE.” 

“ A college mass meeting will be held in the Mathe- 
matical room this afternoon at 4 o'clock to consider the 
article reflecting upon Kenton, and its students, which 
appeared in this morning’s Bayburg Sentinel.” 

“ That child doesn’t seem to have any father,” com- 
mented Ned, who was looking over Raymond’s shoul- 
der. 

“ It’s an orphan all right,” assented Raymond. “ I 
should think the fellow who put it there would at least 
have had the grace to sign his name to it.” 

“ Perhaps he thought it would weaken it,” said Ned, 
dryly. 

“ It looks as if someone were gunning for Mort 
Lipp,” said a voice behind them, and turning they saw 
that the speaker was Charlie Longley. 

“ What does this mean, Charlie?” demanded Ray- 
mond. “ Who is Mort Lipp anyway ? ” 

“ He is the Freshman who has been writing Kenton 
stuff for the Bayburg Sentinel the past year. I under- 
stand that he doesn’t deny the authorship of this morn- 
ing’s article.” 

“ Who posted that notice? ” asked Ned. 

“ I don’t know,” responded Longley. “ Looks to 
me like Farnsworth’s writing.” 


340 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ That’s it ! ” exclaimed Raymond, wrathfully. 
“ He’s bound to pursue everyone who reflects on him, 
especially if he chances to be a Freshman. Do you 
know, fellows, I think I shall be present at that meet- 
ing.” 

“ So shall I,” said Longley. 

“ I may be there myself, if business engagements per- 
mit,” said Ned. “ Shouldn’t wonder if Brother Farns- 
worth heard something drop before he sees the last of 
this matter.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE PASSING OF FARNSWORTH 

“ The meeting will please come to order.” 

Kirk Farnsworth stood behind the desk on the low 
platform in the Mathematical room as he made this 
announcement. Immediately all conversation ceased 
among the students present, and a hush of expectancy 
fell upon the gathering. 

“ We are met here to-day, gentlemen,” continued 
Farnsworth, after a moment’s pause, “ to consider an 
article which appeared in this morning’s Bayburg Sen- 
tinel, an article which not only grossly misrepresented 
the college jury, but reflected, in a general way, upon 
the entire college community. What action, if any, will 
you take in this matter? Gentlemen, the Chair awaits 
your pleasure.” 

“ Let the jury fine him for contempt of court,” sug- 
gested Ben Perley, from one of the back seats. 

“ Unfortunately the jury has no power to deal with 
a case of this character,” responded Farnsworth. 

“ I would suggest — ” began Victor Evans, rising 
from a front seat, and facing the members of the meet- 
ing. 

“ The speaker will please address the Chair,” inter- 
rupted Farnsworth. 


34i 


34 2 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I will — when we have one,” returned Evans, cool- 
ly. “ Is it your pleasure, gentlemen, that Mr. Penton 
serve us as chairman? All those in favor will say 
aye?” 

“ Aye,” came the prompt answer in a ringing chorus. 

“ Those opposed, no,” continued Evans. 

There was a moment’s pause with no response — 
Farnsworth wisely deciding not to subject himself to 
ridicule by a negative. 

“ The ayes have it. It is a vote,” announced Evans. 
“ Mr. Penton will please take the chair.” 

“ Gentlemen,” said Farnsworth, in a choked voice, “ I 
acquiesce in your choice, but permit me to say that the 
manner in which it was made was an uncalled-for and 
needless insult to me.” 

“ Extreme cases require extreme measures,” retorted 
Evans. “ This is a democratic community, and it is 
best to proceed by democratic methods.” 

A burst of applause greeted this announcement. 

“ I had no wish to deprive this meeting of any of its 
rights,” declared Farnsworth, pale with passion, as he 
sank into a seat. 

“ We’ve known before of just such usurpations here 
at Kenton,” responded Evans, imperturbably, “ and we 
don’t purpose of stand for any more of them.” 

“ The Chair awaits the pleasure of the meeting,” 
announced Penton, who had taken the place vacated by 
Farnsworth. 

“ Mr. Chairman,” said Raymond, rising in his place, 


THE PASSING OF FARNSWORTH 


343 


“ before we proceed further I should like to inquire by 
whose call we are assembled here ? ” 

“ Can anyone answer the gentleman’s question ? ” 
asked Penton. 

There was a moment’s awkward silence. 

“ If no one is responsible for this gathering,” contin- 
ued Raymond, “ I move that we do now adjourn.” 

“ One moment, Mr. Chairman,” said Farnsworth, 
rising hastily to his feet. “ I do not understand that 
it makes any particular difference who calls a meeting 
of this character, so long as its purposes are stated. 
If, however, it will afford the gentleman any satis- 
faction, I will state I wrote the call for this meeting 
in response to the wishes of a number of upper- 
classmen.” 

“ I am glad to know, Mr. Chairman, the source of 
this call,” said Raymond, calmly. “ It did not appear 
on the notice posted upon the Chapel bulletin-board. 
In view of the information the gentleman has so kindly 
favored us with, I will withdraw my motion.” 

“You are very — very kind,” sneered Farnsworth. 

“ The gentleman will please address the Chair,” 
admonished Penton, rapping smartly upon the table 
with the heavy ruler which served him as a gavel. 

“ I beg your pardon, Mr. Chairman,” responded 
Farnsworth, in a strained voice. “ For some unex- 
plained reason there appears to be a disposition upon 
the part of certain members of this meeting to go out 
of their way in order to insult and humiliate me. 


344 


THE KENTON PINES 


I purpose, however, to treat them, and their aspersions, 
with the contempt they deserve. I am not — thank 
heaven! — upon trial at this meeting. We are met 
here to consider what action we should take relative 
to the scurrilous attack upon Kenton and its under- 
graduates to which I have already referred. The 
author of that indecent and uncalled for diatrabe is 
even now in the full enjoyment of the privileges 
and advantages of this college and, in spite of what 
he has done, has the nerve to be present at this 
meeting.” 

All eyes turned curiously towards Lipp, who sat in 
one of the rear seats. He was a tall, wiry-built young 
man, with clear-cut features and flashing dark eyes. 
His face was pale, and his lips tightly closed; but his 
whole bearing indicated that he was nowise lacking in 
spirit. 

“ Perhaps,” concluded Farnsworth, after a moment’s 
pause, “ the one to whom I have alluded may have some 
explanation to offer — ” 

Lipp rose slowly to his feet. 

“ Mr. Chairman,” he said, in low, even tones, “ I 
learned, for the first time since coming here, that this 
meeting purports to represent the entire undergraduate 
body in this college. That I deny — ” 

“ You know very well — ” interrupted Farnsworth, 
jumping angrily to his feet. 

“ Mr. Lipp has the floor,” declared Chairman Pen- 
ton, sharply. 


THE PASSING OF FARNSWORTH 


345 


“ I was under the impression that I was occupying 
it by special invitation/’ remarked Lipp, coolly. 

An audible titter greeted this statement, in the midst 
of which Farnsworth, with a very flushed face, sub- 
sided into his seat. 

“ I was about to remark, when the gentleman broke 
in upon me,” continued Lipp, “ that my class represents 
considerably more than one-fourth of this college com- 
munity, and not a single member of it was consulted 
in reference to the calling of this meeting. If anyone 
questions this statement, the most of them are here to 
answer for themselves ” 

He paused deliberately, and glanced at the members 
of the Freshman class seated about him. 

“ I do not deny the authorship of the article in this 
morning’s * Bayburg Sentinel,’ which has already been 
alluded to,” he added, after a moment’s silence. 

A few scattering groans and hisses greeted this 
admission, which were promptly and sternly repressed 
by Chairman Penton. 

“ In saying what I did,” continued Lipp, “ I voiced 
the sentiment of the entire Freshman class.” 

A burst of applause from the Freshmen, which was 
quickly and sternly repressed by Chairman Penton, 
greeted this announcement. 

“ I have nothing further to say,” concluded Lipp, 
“ except that I have no apology to offer.” 

“ Mr. Chairman,” said Raymond Benson, “ I do not 
wish to trespass unnecessarily upon the time of this 


346 


THE KENTON PINES 


meeting. I quite agree with the statements made by 
Mr. Lipp. There is a very general conviction in 
college as to the identity of the party who committed 
the dastardly outrage in the Penley brothers’ room, 
and I believe I voice the sentiment of the decent fellows 
of this college when I say that it is the plain and impera- 
tive duty of the jury to call him to account for it.” 

A burst of applause greeted this statement. 

Farnsworth, white with passion, rose part way to 
his feet, but sank back into his seat again without 
uttering a word. 

“ I question, however,” pursued Raymond, “ the 
wisdom or the advisability of airing such matters in 
the newspapers. It seems to me that it would be better 
for us not to wash our dirty linen in public.” 

Following Raymond’s remarks came a very gen- 
eral discussion of Lipp’s article, including some very 
plain-spoken comments upon the incident which had 
inspired it. 

Most of the speakers took Raymond’s view of the 
situation, although a few, including Tom Kidder and 
Ben Perley, advocated the adoption of summary meas- 
ures in the case of Lipp, whose course they denounced 
in the most scathing terms. 

The final outcome of the meeting, however, was the 
adoption of a resolution mildly reprimanding Lipp 
for criticising college institutions in the public prints, 
sharply denouncing the vandalism that had wrought the 
havoc in the Penleys’ room, and expressing the opinion 


THE PASSING OF FARNSWORTH 


347 


that the author of it should be dealt with summarily. 
It was evidently not the outcome that Farnsworth had 
anticipated, and, as he brushed by Raymond on leaving 
the room, he could not resist an outburst of feeling. 

“ You’ve had your way, Benson,” he sneered, “ and 
rubbed it into me to your heart’s content. Now, I 
suppose, you are satisfied.” 

“If condemning the act in the Penleys’ room was 
rubbing it into you, I certainly am,” responded Ray- 
mond, with spirit. 

“You mean that as a charge, do you?” demanded 
Farnsworth, white with passion. 

“ I mean just what I say,” responded Raymond, 
coolly. “ If the coat doesn’t fit you, why are you so 
anxious to put it on ? ” 

“ You will regret the course you have seen fit to 
pursue,” said Farnsworth, bitterly. 

“ Possibly, but let me tell you one thing, Farnsworth, 
and you will do well to think it over. You are carry- 
ing about as much of a load as it is wise for you to 
shoulder, if you expect to graduate from Kenton.” 

“ I wouldn’t give two cents for a Kenton diploma,” 
declared Farnsworth, recklessly. 

“ Perhaps it wouldn’t be worth that much to you,” 
retorted Raymond. 

“ Yes,” chimed in Ned, who had been a silent listener 
to the conversation. “ Daniel Webster is said to have 
destroyed his, you know.” 

“Indeed! Then there’s hope for you,” fumed 


348 


THE KENTON PINES 


Farnsworth, derisively, and, turning upon his heel, he 
walked quickly away in a fury of wrath. 

“ Bah! but hasn’t that fellow degenerated,” said Ned, 
looking after him, resentfully. “ He’s already lost most 
of the veneer of gentility that once characterized him. 
About all that’s left of him is his vocabulary. Of late 
he’s done nothing but sting himself like a scorpion. 
He’s fairly bubbling over with venom.” 

“ I can’t help pitying the fellow,” said Raymond. 

“ Pity him! What for?” 

“ He’s so thoroughly wretched. The trouble with 
Farnsworth lies in his utter and unreasonable selfish- 
ness.” 

“ Not at all,” objected Ned, stoutly. “ It’s due to 
his super-sensitive conceit, his inability to credit other 
folks with knowing anything; his lack of moral fibre, 
and his general — ah — er — asininity.” 

“ All those things grow naturally enough out of 
elemental selfishness,” declared Raymond. “ I tell you 
what, old boy, I think we’ve seen about the last of 
Farnsworth here at Kenton.” 

This prediction came true sooner even than Raymond 
anticipated. The following day Farnsworth gloomily 
announced that he had decided to complete his course 
at Woodsville, where a fellow would be appreciated 
at his worth and where, in his opinion, a much higher 
standard of culture prevailed. It was this announce- 
ment, probably, that made the college jury decide to 
give no further consideration to the Penley case. 


THE PASSING OF FARNSWORTH 


349 


The summer term drew rapidly to a close. Vine 
Day, the great event of Junior year, was favored with 
perfect weather. In the forenoon an exhibition game 
of ball was played with the strong team of the Bayburg 
Athletic Association, but the visitors were unable to 
do anything with Raymond’s delivery, and Kenton 
scored an easy victory. 

In the afternoon came the Vine Day exercises, pre- 
sided over by Raymond, who had been honored by his 
classmates with an election as their President for Junior 
year. The vine was duly planted with impressive cere- 
mony beside the stone walls of the Chapel, after which 
the class adjourned to College hall to carry out the 
remainder of the programme. Here the President made 
a brief address, followed by a distribution of the 
“ honors ” which, in accordance with a vote of the 
class previously taken, were awarded as follows: 

Lazy man, casket, Wes Jarvis. 

Best moustache, miniature razor, Jack Carroll. 

Ladies’ man, “ Pomme D’Ambre,” Carl Lennox. 

Crank, crank, Victor Evans. 

Hercules, bludgeon, Wendell Nye. 

Popular man, wooden spoon, Ned Grover. 

As these “ honors,” aside from the Popular Man, 
were given out with a special view to their inappro- 
priateness, the awards were the occasion of no little 
merriment to the large audience that packed the spacious 
hall to its utmost capacity. 

Among the interested members of the audience was 


350 


THE KENTON PINES 


Clara Benson, who had come from Bayburg to enjoy 
the day’s festivities, as the special guest of Janet Ams- 
den and Alice Mercer — Mansur, in view of the impera- 
tive engagements of Raymond and Ned during the day, 
gallantly acting as escort for all three of the young 
ladies. 

In the evening came the Vine Day ball, in the College 
hall, which had been very tastefully decorated for the 
occasion. Here each of the young ladies at the Ams- 
den house had her own escort — a fact which doubtless 
contributed in no small degree to their thorough enjoy- 
ment of the occasion. 

Following Vine Day the summer term at Kenton 
drew rapidly to a close. Commencement week was 
reached all too soon, for never had Raymond and Ned 
so thoroughly enjoyed their life at Old Kenton as during 
this beautiful season which marked the close of their 
Junior year. 

On Tuesday of Commencement week came the exer- 
cises of Senior Class day, followed in the evening by 
a “ dance on the green.” Under one of the spreading 
trees of the campus a pavilion had been erected, which, 
tastefully decorated with flags and bunting, admirably 
served the purposes of the dancers. A famous orches- 
tra had been engaged for the evening, and, with ideal 
weather, the occasion was destined to pass into college 
history as one of the most notable social events in the 
life of Kenton. 

Clara Benson was again a guest at the Amsden house, 


THE PASSING OF FARNSWORTH 


351 


and Raymond, Ned, and Mansur once more served as 
escorts for the same fair partners. 

At intermission “ spreads ” were served in the various 
fraternity chapter houses. 

“ You can begin to see the end now,” said Miss 
Amsden, as she and Raymond strolled leisurely back 
to the pavilion from the beautiful home of Beta Mu 
Kappa. The broad walk that had grown so familiar 
to Raymond during the year was illuminated with rows 
of Chinese lanterns. Electric arc lights had been plenti- 
fully provided about the campus, and Raymond and 
his fair partner paused for a moment to admire the 
rare brilliancy and beauty of the scene. 

The remark of Miss Amsden awoke Raymond from 
a moment of dreamy reverie. 

“Yes,” he sighed, regretfully. “Now that we are 
beginning to appreciate it all, it will soon be over. 
What a scene ! ” he added, with a long-drawn breath. 
“ It is like a veritable glimpse of fairyland.” 

“ It is beautiful,” she answered, “ and yet I do not 
believe you would want to linger here beyond the four 
years of your course.” 

“ That is so,” admitted Raymond. “ After all the 
real life lies beyond.” 

“ The real life,” repeated Janet, softly. “ Oh, how 
much, how very much that must mean to a man — the 
power to make his own way, to achieve his own des- 
tiny!” 

“ Yes,” admitted Raymond, “ and yet what a man 


35 2 


THE KENTON PINES 


makes of himself in this world is largely due to the 
incentive that spurs him on; to the influences that sur- 
round his life.” 

“ Very true,” assented Janet, “ and yet, within cer- 
tain broad limits, every man may choose his friends, 
and, to a large extent, people his own world in their 
selection.” 

“ If they are willing to fellowship with him.” 

“ A true man need never fear but that other good 
men will seek his society.” 

“ And the ladies ? ” queried Raymond. 

“ Will not fail to honor him,” was the prompt 
response. 

“ Ah, but that will not satisfy him,” persisted Ray- 
mond. “ There must be one among them all to enter- 
tain a stronger feeling for him. Haven’t you seen — ” 

“Come — Come!” interposed Janet, with sudden 
energy. “ The music has started again. We must 
hurry along or we shall be late for the schottische.” 

Three days later, Raymond and Ned were back in 
Chestnut for the happy days of the summer vacation. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


IN SENIOR YEAR 

“ Hail to our Brotherhood ! 

Bright is our Brotherhood! 

Noble its aim! 

Eyes beaming earnestly, 

Hearts linked in unity, 

And immortality 

Guarding its name.” 

As the last stirring strains of “ America/’ to the 
music of which these words were sung, died away, the 
members of the little group about the piano in the big 
reception hall of the Beta Mu Kappa Chapter house, 
laid aside their song books to go their various ways. 

As Raymond Benson paused a moment at the foot 
of the broad stairway to exchange greetings with mem- 
bers of the fraternity, Charlie Longley called to him 
from the doorway of the smoking room. “ Have a 
game of pool, old man ? ” 

“ No, thanks. I must go and help Ned unpack.” 

“ Can’t he do it alone? ” 

“ He can,” answered Raymond, “ but I don’t believe 
I want him to.” 

“ Don’t tempt him, Charlie,” interposed Victor 
Evans. “ He and Ned have come back to Kenton to 
lead the strenuous life, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea 
353 


354 


THE KENTON PINES 


for some of the rest of us to follow their example. 
Still — ” 

“ Still, what ? ” questioned Longley. 

“ Why — I was about to say that, inasmuch as I 
don’t intend to begin until to-morrow, I shouldn’t mind 
playing you a game of pool.” 

“ Procrastinator ! ” laughed Raymond. “ Don’t you 
know — you fraud ! — that to-morrow' never comes ? ” 

“ That’s probably why he makes it the starting point 
of all his studious endeavors,” suggested Longley. 

Evans shook his head, deprecatingly. 

“ I’ll lead you all a merry race down the home 
stretch,” he declared, with an air of confidence. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder a mite if he lugged off the Latin 
salutatory,” grinned Wendall Nye. “ That would be 
a snap, Vic,” he added, with twinkling eyes. “ If you 
happened to flunk, you know, you could conjugate a 
verb, and so keep everything running along smoothly 
while you got your bearings again.” 

“ Certainly,” acquiesced Evans, dryly. “ A very fine 
way of treading intellectual water. Still there’d be 
one satisfaction in it. If I did it fairly fast the rest 
of you couldn’t follow me.” 

“ You might get us all together beforehand and give 
us one of your free translations,” suggested Wes Jarvis. 
“ Heard about Vic’s unconventional way of interpreting 
Holy Writ, haven’t you, fellows?” 

“ No,” “What was it?” “Let’s have it,” came in 
chorus from several members of the group. 


IN SENIOR YEAR 


355 


“ You see there was only six of us in the elective 
Latin course, last term, and the Professor, mindful no 
doubt of the allurements of the summer term, decided 
to use as a text-book a Latin version of the New Testa- 
ment.” 

“ Perhaps he fancied he might force some of you 
to acquire a knowledge of the Scriptures,” interposed 
Wendall Nye, irreverently. 

“ Very likely he may have wished to furnish a little 
leaven for the loaf,” admitted Jarvis; “ but his principal 
insistence was upon freedom of translation. He wanted 
us to give the meaning of the text in our own words. 
Vic was reading one day, and came to that place in 
the text which the world’s great scholars have trans- 
lated, ‘ Get thee behind me, Satan.’ How do you sup- 
pose he rendered it ? ” 

“ Give it up,” announced the members of the group, 
promptly. 

‘He read it, ‘ Go away back and sit down, Satan,’ ” 
declared Jarvis. 

“ Come, Wendall,” said Raymond, laying a hand on 
Nye’s arm, when the laughter that greeted Jarvis’ story 
had subsided,, let’s get away from this crowd, before 
it cfemoralizes us,” and, together, they went chuckling 
up the stairway. 

“ Has the caucus adjourned?” demanded Ned, who 
was kneeling before his open trunk, as Raymond entered 
the room. 

“ Yes. What did you hurry off so for? ” 


356 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Look at that,” rejoined Ned, pointing ruefully to 
a miscellaneous assortment of things piled in reckless 
confusion upon the couch. “ Where shall we ever find 
room for it all ? ” 

The perspiration was rolling in large drops down his 
ruddy cheeks, and it was evident that that stocky college 
catcher was not a little perturbed at the seeming impos- 
sibility of invoking order out of the existing chaos. 

Raymond could not restrain a laugh at his room- 
mate’s very evident anxiety. 

“ This is no laughing matter, I tell you,” declared 
Ned, resentfully. “ Where, I say, shall we ever put 
all these things? Here is an extensive Senior outfit to 
be added to the varied accumulations of our former 
years of Kenton life. It’s my opinion, old man, we’re 
up against it.” 

“ Nonsense,” protested Raymond, good-naturedly. 
“ A little patience and perseverance will set us to rights, 
and we shall have some room to spare. We might make 
something yet by selling storage to the boys.” 

Ned threw up his hands in mock despair. “ There’s 
no hope for you,” he said. 

In a short time, however, under Raymond’s direction, 
the contents of the two big trunks had been neatly 
stowed away, and the sunny rooms presented their cus- 
tomary clean and attractive appearance. Ned could 
not restrain an expression of admiration for his room- 
mate, as he contemplated the results of this trans- 
formation. 


IN SENIOR YEAR 


357 


* 

“ I'd give a good deal if I had your bump of order,” 
he asserted. “ I can get things back into old places 
after Fve learned where they belong; but it is quite 
another matter to find places for new things.” 

“ You will need to make sure of an orderly wife,” 
responded Raymond, lightly. 

A flush of embarrassment mantled Ned’s cheek, and 
he cast a quick, searching glance at his roommate. 
Clara Benson had been their traveling companion on 
the way to Kenton. She was returning to Bayburg 
to complete her studies in that city. For a moment 
Ned was not sure but Raymond had intended some 
allusion to the very evident pleasure which his room- 
mate had derived from Clara’s company. The thought 
was quickly banished, however. Raymond was busily 
engaged in rearranging his desk, in utter obliviousness 
of Ned’s momentary suspicion. Brothers are prover- 
bially blind. 

It was Monday, the day before the formal opening 
of the fall term at Kenton. Most of the members of 
the Freshman class were already on the ground, and 
each incoming train brought its contingent of old stu- 
dents to swell the life and activity of the reawakened 
college. 

Jacques, the college carpenter, was the busiest man 
on the campus, selling to the newcomers of the Fresh- 
man class, at a reasonable margin of profit, the various 
articles of furniture which he had purchased the pre- 
vious June of the outgoing Seniors. Express teams, 


358 


THE KENTON PINES 


piled high with trunks, were coming and going in the 
rear of the college dormitories, and everywhere about 
the campus was the bustle of preparation and house- 
settling that betokens the opening of a college year. 

Raymond and Ned were saddened somewhat by the 
reflection that they were witnessing these scenes for 
the last time as undergraduates. 

Already the responsibilities of Senior year were 
beginning to have a sobering effect, even upon those 
members of the class who had not, heretofore, taken 
an altogether serious view of the college life and its 
opportunities. 

The first few days of the term seemed to Raymond 
and Ned almost like a new exhibit of an old panorama, 
and, for the first time, they were quite content to serve 
as mere spectators of the passing show. There were 
the usual scrappy contests between the two lower classes, 
in which the Freshmen were worsted in every instance, 
save in the rope-pull, where their superior weight and 
greater numbers prevailed. It was a satisfaction to 
Raymond and Ned to see, in the steadily increasing 
membership of its classes, a convincing evidence of 
Kenton’s constant progress in growth and prestige. 

Again the interest at Kenton was centered for a 
time upon the contests of the football season. The 
college was fortunate in having a number of veteran 
players available for the eleven. The Freshman class 
furnished some very promising candidates. Raymond 
and Ned played brilliantly in their old positions, and 


IN SENIOR YEAR 


359 


aided materially in bringing the championship back to 
Kenton. 

Soon after the close of the football season, the fall 
term drew to an end, Raymond and Ned again remain- 
ing in Plainsville during the vacation. Perhaps they 
were influenced to this course, even if unconsciously, 
by several social events in the town to which they had 
been invited, among which was a whist party at the 
Amsdens’. Alice Mercer was still at her Southern 
home; but had promised her cousin to come North 
in season to participate in the winter’s social fes- 
tivities. 

“ I think Cousin Charlie is the real magnet,” declared 
Janet Amsden in making this announcement. 

“ I suspected as much a year ago,” was Raymond’s 
laughing response. “ Pm sure I congratulate them 
both.” 

“ I don’t think any congratulations are really due as 
yet,” protested Janet. “ I simply feel that matters are 
tending in that direction.” 

“ I think that Charlie was convinced some time ago 
that it was not good for man to be alone,” said Ray- 
mond, lightly, “ provided, of course, the right woman 
would take pity on him.” 

“ It is important, of course, that she should be the 
right one,” admitted Miss Amsden, coloring slightly. 

“ I’m sure of it,” declared Raymond. 

She shot him a quick glance, then dropped her 


eyes. 


3 6 ° 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ I’m glad you have such settled convictions in the 
matter/’ said she, “ and that you approve my cousin’s 
choice.” 

“ It should be an inspiration for Charlie to make the 
very most of himself,” declared Raymond, fervently, 
“ and I’m very sure that he will.” 

“ So am I,” she agreed. “ I think I know what first 
attracted Alice to Charlie,” she added. “ It was his 
everyday common sense. His lack of sentimentalism. 
I admire her sound judgment,” she added, naively. 

Raymond flushed a little uneasily. 

“ Mawkishness is intolerable,” he confessed. “ Still, 
where sentiment is genuine you know — ” 

“ Even then,” interposed Janet, “ it sometimes helps 
the course of friendship not to give it undue expression. 
How do you like your Senior studies ? ” she asked, 
abruptly, changing the subject. 

“ Oh, very well, indeed,” responded Raymond, a little 
piqued. “ There’s some satisfaction to a fellow, you 
know, in having a generous range of electives.” 

“ I presume there must be,” she said. 

As they parted at the door Raymond noticed that 
Miss Amsden, while cordial in manner, did not extend 
her hand to him as usual, and as he walked home he 
racked his brain to think of anything in their conver- 
sation which might possibly have offended her. Fail- 
ing in this, he finally decided that the omission must 
have been an oversight. Still he concluded to with- 
hold, for the present at least, an important question 


IN SENIOR YEAR 36 1 

which he had several times been on the point of asking 
her. 

Early in the winter the Medical School began its 
session at Plainsville, but, for the first time in many 
years, its opening lecture was not marked by the cus- 
tomary hazing programme, and even the Freshman 
Medic found his way to his seat in the amphitheatre 
in peace and quietude — blissfully unconscious of the 
raging gauntlet his predecessors had been forced to 
run. The “ Kenton Clarion ” welcomed the “ Medics ” 
with friendly dignity, and forbore its usual witticisms 
at their expense. It was evident that the quiet cam- 
paign for the accomplishment of this end which had 
been conducted by Raymond Benson, and a few other 
influential students in the academic department, had 
borne very practical fruit. 

As Mansur had predicted, this change in the old-time 
policy resulted in the bringing about of closer and more 
friendly relations between the two departments of the 
college than had ever existed before. 

The winter term was characterized by the usual 
Junior dancing school and assemblies, as well as by a 
number of entertainments given by leading townspeople, 
and to which Raymond and Ned never failed to be 
invited. 

Raymond again attended these events with Miss 
Amsden, while Ned and Mansur accompanied Clara 
Benson and Miss Mercer. So familiar had these three 
couples become to the social life of Plainsville, and so 


362 


THE KENTON PINES 


well satisfied did they appear in one another’s society 
that some of their irreverent associates, learning in some 
way of Mansur’s playful designation, had come to refer 
to them as “ The Sunny Sextet,” a fact which afforded 
Ned considerable amusement, when it came to his ears; 
but which was a secret source of annoyance and resent- 
ment to Raymond. He had felt during the whole year 
that something indefinite, but nevertheless very real, 
had come between himself and Janet Amsden. There 
was a constraint that was new to their friendship, and 
which was all the more depressing to Raymond from 
its very vagueness. It was something felt rather than 
seen or heard. Outwardly Miss Amsden was still as 
cordial as ever; but Raymond was conscious that men- 
tally she was maintaining an attitude of reserve towards 
him. He could not help from chafing under a situ- 
ation for which he did not feel himself responsible, and 
which he saw no way to remedy. 

He went about his studies and his work in the gym- 
nasium during the winter term with feverish energy, 
making long hours, and endeavoring by forcing his 
attention upon other matters, to avoid the state of 
mental doubt and uncertainty that was consuming 
him. 

Ned was quick to note the change in his roommate, 
whose restlessness and mental preoccupation were very 
much in evidence, but attributed it to overwork. With 
the lack of discernment characteristic of his sex he 
showed his solicitude by advising his friend to “go 


IN SENIOR YEAR 363 

slow ” and “ take it easy ” — advice which Raymond 
was in no mood to heed or appreciate. 

The Junior dancing school, the Germans, and the 
assemblies came finally to an end. The winter term 
was drawing to a close, and with it the college year. 

As Raymond saw Janet Amsden home from the last 
of the assemblies, he felt, with a pang, that he would 
never again participate as an undergraduate in these 
happy associations of the college life. Next year Miss 
Amsden herself would probably be attending them with 
some Freshman! The mere thought made Raymond 
sick at heart. 

He was aroused from his abstraction by Miss Ams- 
den’s voice, which sounded strangely distant to him. 

“ A penny for your thoughts ! ” she said, with an 
attempt at her old-time gaiety. 

Her tones sounded forced and strained, however, and 
Raymond suddenly awoke to the tardy consciousness 
that the pain of parting did not rest upon himself alone. 
He could not, selfish though it was, restrain a thrill of 
exultation at the discovery. 

“ I’m afraid they’re not worth it,” he rejoined, with 
a forced laugh. 

“ You must let me be the judge,” she responded, in 
low tones. 

“ I was regretting the waning afternoon,” he con- 
fessed, sadly; “this setting of the sun on our brief 
college day.” 

“ You should look to the dawn — to the breaking of 


364 


THE KENTON PINES 


the new day,” she said, gravely. 

They had reached the Amsden house, and Raymond 
lingered for a moment over the good-night. 

“ I wish you would explain one thing to me, Janet,” 
he said, abruptly. 

It was the first time in their acquaintance that he had 
ever called her by her first name; but if she noticed it, 
she did not resent it. 

“ And what is that?” she asked, faintly. 

“ In what way have I offended you ? ” 

“ Offended me ! ” she echoed, incredulously, as if she 
had not heard him aright. “ What gave you such an 
idea as that ? ” 

“ There has — that is, it seemed to me — as if — as 
if our relations hadn’t been as — as cordial as they used 
to be,” he floundered, desperately. 

“ And why not ? ” she asked, quietly. 

“ That’s what I wanted to find out.” 

“ You are very wrong in imagining that you have 
offended me, and very, very wrong to — to — think 
that way,” she answered, in a choked voice. 

The impulse was strong in Raymond to take her in 
his arms and beg her forgiveness, but he forebore. 

“ You have made me very happy,” he said, huskily. 
“ Good-night,” he added, abruptly. 

“ Good-night,” she echoed, softly. 

Miss Amsden ran quickly up the steps to the front 
door of her home. As she put her hand upon the knob, 
she paused a moment to watch the tall, straight form of 


IN SENIOR YEAR 


365 


Raymond as he went swinging up the street in the 
direction of the campus. If he could have looked at 
her then he would have seen that her eyes were swim- 
ming in tears. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE HOME STRETCH 

“ It’s a short horse soon curried now, old boy.” 

Ned Grover laid an affectionate hand upon his room- 
mate’s shoulder and spoke with an unwonted soberness 
as he gave expression to this thought. 

He and Raymond were walking slowly across the 
college grounds towards the Beta Mu Kappa chapter 
house on the opening day of the term. It was the 
middle of April. Already the air was beginning to be 
fragrant with the incense of opening buds and blossoms, 
and the Kenton campus was commencing to take on the 
perfection of summer beauty which was its crowning 
glory of the year. 

“We may return here in years to come, and I hope 
we may many times,” responded Raymond, after a 
moment’s pause, “ still, Ned, with all our love and 
loyalty, the old college will never seem quite the same 
again.” 

“ Especially after the fellows who are here now have 
graduated,” acquiesced Ned. “ I can’t help having a 
warm corner in my heart though for the alumni who 
have kept themselves in touch with the undergraduates, 
and have retained the spirit of youth in the process.” 

366 


THE HOME STRETCH 


367 


“ They are worthy of it,” assented Raymond. 
“ There was always something inspiring to me in the 
encouraging shouts of our alumni when we were in 
a close football or baseball contest.” 

“ And now we can soon see how it will seem to play 
that part ourselves,” added Ned. 

“ I tried to get Captain Longley to let me start in 
at once,” said Raymond, “ but he wouldn’t listen to it.” 

“ I don’t blame him. Why should he ? ” 

“ I told him that Scruton was quite capable of carry- 
ing the burden of the league series this year; and that 
both Fellows and Lippert were beginning to round 
into ’ Varsity form. Besides, with the losses the other 
teams have sustained, I don’t look for such hard games 
this season as we’ve had in the past three years.” 

“ It won’t be any procession for us,” declared Ned, 
confidently. “ Besides it is the ambition of Longley’s 
heart to land that pennant this year. With you in the 
box he can do it. Without you the chances of his 
doing so are doubtful. Fuller pitched great ball for 
the Osarge team last summer, and the chances are that 
he will be in considerable better form this year. He 
will also have a stronger team behind him. I tell you, 
old boy, if we land the pennant at Kenton this term 
we’ve got to scratch gravel.” 

“ You may be right,” assented Raymond. “ I should 
like to have more of my time this summer; but I shall 
not let up in my training, and if the boys really need 
me I’ll do my best for them.” 


3 68 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ Of course you will,” said Ned. “ You couldn’t 
help doing it if you tried.” 

Presently, as they talked, the boys reached the Beta 
Mu Kappa chapter house, where a vociferous and cor- 
dial welcome awaited them. 

Raymond and Ned, contrary to their usual custom, 
had spent the short spring vacation with their parents, 
Ned lingering a few days at Raymond’s home in Ban- 
gor, before continuing on to Chestnut. 

Whatever regrets at the thought of parting the 
familiar sight of the campus with its stately buildings 
may have inspired them with, upon their return to 
Kenton, were soon lost sight of in the activities of a 
term which was crowded with events, and where the 
student life was lived largely out-of-doors. 

Aside from the pressure of the closing work in their 
studies Raymond and Ned were obliged to devote con- 
siderable time to the practice and games of the ball 
team. 

Again the burden of the battery work fell to them, 
and once more they had the satisfaction of seeing the 
pennant come to Kenton. 

On the forenoon of Vine Day, the members of 
“ The Sunny Sextet ” sat in the grandstand and saw 
the Kenton nine, with Scruton and Quimby for its 
battery, win an exhibition game from Boles. It was 
evident that the baseball interests of the college would 
be left in good hands, when they were gone. 

“ You see how little we are needed,” laughed Ray- 


THE HOME STRETCH 


369 


mond, a trifle ruefully, as he and Janet Amsden fol- 
lowed the crowd from the Wentworth athletic field at 
the close of the game. 

“ But this was only an exhibition game,” she pro- 
tested, warmly. “ You were very much needed the 
last time the Kenton team played a league game on 
Vine Day. I believe that is still our record game, 
isn’t it ? ” 

“ I was very fortunate that day,” said Raymond, 
modestly. 

“ And also very effective,” she smiled. 

“ And you saw it all — even when Charlie Mansur 
ran away,” he added, admiringly. 

“ The temptation to follow suit was very strong,” 
she admitted, “ but you know that I had company that 
day.” 

“ I remember,” said Raymond. “ Still, I think 
you would have remained even if you had been 
alone.” 

“ I am afraid you are disposed to give me too much 
credit,” she said, deprecatingly. “ Now — * ” 

“ Let’s change the subject,” interrupted Raymond. 
“ I’ve noticed your tendency to do that whenever our 
conversation took a personal turn.” 

“ Really ? Let me congratulate you on your discern- 
ment,” she said, demurely. 

“ I don’t think I deserve it,” admitted Raymond. 
“ It’s been so long in coming.” 

“ Do you know,” she said, a few minutes later, as 


3?o 


THE KENTON PINES 


they parted at the front door of her home, “ I begin 
to think you will deserve your diploma.” 

“ Thanks ! ” he returned, lightly. “ I shall have 
less compunction about taking it, now that you have 
expressed that opinion.” 

Immediately after dinner Raymond and Ned were 
assembled with their classmates to participate in the 
impressive and beautiful ceremony known as “ The 
Seniors’ last Chapel.” In solid ranks, and headed by 
their marshal, the members of the class swayed slowly 
down the broad chapel aisle to the affecting music of 
“ Auld Lang Syne ” — and so, out through the big 
front doorway, into the beautiful summer day. The 
shadow of parting was already upon them, and more 
than one eye was moist as they broke ranks to mingle, 
with sweethearts and friends, in the large audience that 
had assembled to witness the Vine Day exercises of 
the Junior class. 

It was late that night when Raymond and Janet 
returned from the Vine Day ball, and lights were still 
burning in the spacious parlor of the Amsden house. 

“ Won’t you come in, please,” said Miss Amsden. 
“ I think Charlie and Alice are waiting for us.” 

Raymond accepted the invitation, wondering what 
might be coming. 

“ Welcome, laggards,” said Mansur, cheerfully, as 
Raymond and Janet entered the parlor, where they 
found, somewhat to their confusion, that the other 
members of the sextet were already awaiting them. 


THE HOME STRETCH 


371 


“ What do you suppose they could have found to say 
to each other ? ” inquired Alice Mercer, mischievously. 

“I really can’t imagine/’ said Ned, solemnly; '‘but 
it must have been something very interesting.” 

A merry laugh followed at the expense of Raymond 
and Janet, both of whom were blushing furiously. 

“ Charlie Mansur ! ” exclaimed Miss Amsden, indig- 
nantly. “ You know this wasn’t on the programme.” 

“ No,” chuckled Mansur, “ it’s an extra; but one of 
the hits of the evening.” 

His cousin held up her hands in mock despair. 

“ You may have the floor,” said she. 

“ My friends,” said Mansur, rising soberly to his 
feet, “ as you probably know, those best acquainted 
with me have always felt that I needed looking after. 
Various ones have essayed the task, and now another 
has consented to undertake it.” 

He reached out a hand to Alice Mercer, who had 
risen and was standing with very rosy cheeks at his 
side. 

“ Allow me to present the future Mrs. Mansur,” he 
said. 

The other members of the party pressed about them 
to shake hands, and to offer congratulations that were 
both warm and sincere. 

“ I’m glad for them both,” said Raymond, as he and 
Ned were walking back to their room. “ She’s a lovely 
little woman, and Mansur is the crown prince of good 
fellows.” 


37 2 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ They were just made for each other,” rejoined 
Ned with conviction. 

“ I’ve just received a letter from your father,” said 
Ned, a few days later, as he came into the room and 
found Raymond busily engaged in the preparation of 
his Commencement part. 

“ From father?” echoed Raymond, incredulously. 

“ Yes, and what do you suppose he suggests? ” 

“ I haven’t the slightest idea,” confessed Raymond. 

“ That you and I go into partnership with him in the 
fall,” announced Ned. 

Raymond jumped excitedly from his chair, and 
executed an exultant war-dance up and down the room. 

“Hurrah!” he shouted. “Isn’t that great? You 
old fox! Now I know what you and father found to 
talk so much about last vacation.” 

Ned’s eyes danced with merriment. 

“ Hail, Christopher Columbus ! ” he cried, whimsi- 
cally. 

“ Spare me your compliments,” protested Raymond. 
“ I’m no discoverer.” 

“ No,” admitted Ned, frankly, “ I don’t think you 
are. If you had been there are a number of things 
you’d have found out before this.” 

“You are quite sure, are you?” 

Ned nodded, affirmatively. 

“ What, for instance ? ” 

“That Janet Amsden is very much in love with 
you,” 


THE HOME STRETCH 


373 


Raymond’s face clouded. 

“ Guess again,” he said, gloomily. 

“ There’s no need to,” asserted Ned, confidently. 

“ I’d give a good deal to be as sure of it as you 
seem to be,” confessed Raymond, “ but, unfortunately, 
I know better.” 

“ No, you don’t,” insisted Ned. “ You only think 
you do. Remember, my boy, faint heart never won 
fair lady.” 

“ Verily, you speak as one with authority, and not 
as the scribes,” rejoined Raymond. 

Ned indulged in a laugh so unexpectedly loud 
and hearty that Raymond was somewhat perplexed 
to account for it. 

“ Really, I appear to have developed an unusual 
amount of humor to-night,” he said, dryly. 

“ You certainly have,” replied the grinning Ned, 
“ although most of it is of the unconscious variety.” 

The Sunday following this conversation Raymond 
and Ned sat with the members of their class and 
listened to a very able Baccalaureate sermon by Pres- 
ident Hysom. 

The next Tuesday was “ Class Day,” and it seemed 
as if Nature had put forth special efforts to make the 
occasion a success. Already the staid town of Plains- 
ville was thronged with visitors. The alumni and their 
lady friends, as well as those specially interested in the 
members of the graduating class, were out in force, and 
the shady walks of the Kenton campus were brilliant 


374 


THE KENTON PINES 


with the color and animation of a typical Commence- 
ment crowd. 

Raymond and Ned had engaged rooms and board in 
a private house for members of their family, with the 
exception of Clara Benson, who had accepted an invi- 
tation to come to Plainsville during the week as the 
guest of Janet Amsden. 

Mr. and Mrs. Grover, accompanied by Grandfather 
and Grandmother Benson, arrived in Plainsville, Mon- 
day night, and received a most hearty welcome from 
the two Kenton Seniors who were anxiously awaiting 
their coming. 

Owing to business engagements Raymond’s father 
and mother did not reach Kenton until the following 
noon. 

“ I thought you would forgive us if we arrived in 
season for the exercises,” said Mr. Benson, to Ray- 
mond, who met them at the station. 

“ And now, dear, you mustn’t let us monopolize your 
time,” added Mrs. Benson, as she tenderly kissed her 
son. 

“ That’s right,” assented Mr. Benson. “ Your time 
will be pretty well occupied from now out with the 
exercises, and besides — ” 

“ Besides what ? ” asked Raymond, as his father 
hesitated. 

“ Oh, well, you must not neglect the young ladies,” 
concluded Mr. Benson, with a smile. “We old folks 
know how to take care of ourselves. My old friend, 


THE HOME STRETCH 


375 


Hurlburt, of the class of ’67, rode over on the train 
with us, and claimed the special privilege of piloting 
us around. Said he’d really nothing else to do. I’m 
satisfied he’d be mortally offended if we shouldn’t go 
with him — so don’t bother yourself about us. We 
shall be in good hands.” 

“ Nevertheless I shall certainly drop down on you 
wherever and whenever I get a chance,” declared 
Raymond. 

The Class Day exercises were held, Tuesday after- 
noon, in the big pavilion, constructed and decorated 
with special reference to the “ Dance on the Green,” 
which was to come that evening as the crowning glory 
of the day. 

These exercises consisted of a prayer, an oration, 
a poem, an opening address, a prophecy, and a parting 
address. Between the parts suitable musical selections 
were rendered by the famous band and orchestra which 
had been engaged for the various features of Com- 
mencement week. At the conclusion of the literary 
portion of the programme, the members of the class, 
in accordance with an old college custom, sat in a 
circle under one of the spreading oaks of the campus, 
and solemnly smoked the pipe of peace. 

Following this they formed in column of twos and, 
headed by the band, marched soberly around the cam- 
pus, halting to cheer in turn each one of the college 
buildings. 

“ Your exercises were very creditable,” said Ray- 


376 


THE KENTON PINES 


mond’s father, as his son overtook him midway of the 
campus, at the close of the afternoon’s programme. 

“ I’m glad you thought so,” rejoined Raymond, who 
was evidently gratified at the compliment. “ Where 
are the rest of the folks ? ” 

“ They have gone to the Art Building with Miss 
Amsden and Clara. I lingered behind to enjoy the 
crowd.” 

“You have met Miss Amsden, then!” said Ray- 
mond, flushing a little under his father’s searching 
glance. 

“Yes — and we all agreed that she is an exceedingly 
fine girl.” 

“ I’m glad you think so,” said Raymond, with some 
embarrassment. “ I’ve entertained that same opinion 
of her myself ever since I first met her. You don’t 
know, father, how glad I was to learn that you had 
decided to take Ned and me into business with you,” 
he added, somewhat abruptly. 

“Ned told you about that, did he?” 

“ Yes. He showed me your letter.” 

“ Did he say anything further ? ” 

“ No, but I’m very sure that he will accept your 
proposal.” 

“ I was confident he would,” acquiesced Mr. Benson. 

Their conversation was interrupted at this point by 
Miss Amsden’s voice calling to them from the steps of 
the Art Building. 

“ We’re waiting for you,” she smilingly said. 


THE HOME STRETCH 


377 


Janet, her cheeks aglow, and her trim figure show- 
ing to good advantage in a close-fitting summer silk, 
was never more radiant in her beauty than at that 
moment, when the sunshine of the glorious summer 
day lit up her face, and sparkled in her eye. 

Raymond was completely under the witchery of her 
charm, as he and his father followed her into the Art 
Building. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


CONCLUSION 

Once more the Kenton campus was ablaze with 
lights, and brilliant with color. Young people, in 
evening dress, came and went along the broad, shady 
walks, while the air was vocal with music and laugh- 
ter. The “ Dance on the Green ” was an unqualified 
success. 

Along the shady street in front of the campus, Ray- 
mond Benson and Janet Amsden made their way back 
to the pavilion from the Beta Mu Kappa chapter house 
in comparative seclusion. 

“ The longest way round is sometimes the nearest 
way home,” he said. “ And besides I have something 
to say to you.” 

A strain of music floated out to them on the soft 
summer air. 

“ They've started in again,” said Janet, nervously. 
“ We shall — ” 

“ Hang the schottische ! ” exclaimed Raymond, impa- 
tiently. “ I beg your pardon,” he added, penitently. 
“ I spoke hastily, but, really, Janet, haven’t we had 
dancing enough for the present? Wouldn’t you prefer 
a short change ? ” 


378 


THE CONCLUSION 


379 


“ If you wish it,” she responded, in a low voice. 

“ I’m glad to find you so resigned,” laughed Ray- 
mond. 

“I am merely your guest, to-night — so I suppose 
I must humor you,” she said, demurely. 

“ You’ve been so successful in eluding me the past 
year, that it’s certainly time you made me some con- 
cession,” he said, with gentle reproach. “ Really, I’ve 
grown quite afraid of you.” 

They had paused for a moment in the shadows 
beyond the arc lights of the memorial gateway at the 
entrance of the campus, to enjoy, from this secluded 
viewpoint, the beauty of the scene that lay before them. 

Both were silent for a time. Presently she looked 
up at him with laughter in her eyes. 

“ I didn’t like your symptoms,” she confessed. 

“Of what?” he questioned. 

“ Of sentimentalism,” she answered, with downcast 
eyes. 

“ And you — you saw — you know ? ” 

“ Everything,” she answered, softly. 

He reached out and took her hand in his. It trem- 
bled but was not withdrawn. Half doubtingly he drew 
her unresistingly to him and, bending forward, kissed 
her lips in the solemn tenderness of a great joy. Then, 
for the first time, he saw that there were tears in her 
eyes. 

“ Is it possible, Janet,” he asked, wonderingly, “ that 
you can give me your love ? ” 


380 


THE KENTON PINES 


“ No,” she whispered, shyly, with a faint suggestion 
of her old piquancy. “ That is impossible.” 

“ Impossible ? ” he echoed, blankly. 

“Yes, dear,” she murmured, gently. “For — 
for — ” she hid her face on his shoulder — “you — 
already — have it.” 

They were sitting upon the steps of the Art Building, 
blissfully oblivious of all the world, when Ned and 
Clara came upon them there a little later. 

“ We’ve been hunting for you, everywhere,” said 
Clara. “ Where in the world have you been ? ” 

“ A very short but happy journey,” declared Ray- 
mond. 

Clara looked at him, inquiringly. 

“ Is it so? ” she asked, turning to Janet. “ Has he 
actually plucked up the courage to speak ? ” 

“ He really has,” confessed Janet, with flaming face. 

“ And now, your blessing, pray,” said Ned, as he 
and Clara knelt before them on the stone steps. 

“Why — what — you don’t really mean it?” cried 
Raymond, joyfully. 

Janet laid her hand gently on his. 

“ My poor old blind man,” said she, fondly, 
“ couldn’t you see that long ago ? ” 

“ What a muttonhead I’ve been ! ” exclaimed Ray- 
mond, in huge disgust. “ That’s what you and father 
talked about last vacation, and that’s what you meant 
when you joked me about being a Christopher Colum- 
bus.” 


THE CONCLUSION 


381. 


“ Correct — after many days,” laughed Ned. 

Raymond leaned forward, with an air of benediction, 
and laid a hand upon each of the head before him. 

“ Bless you, my children, bless you,” he said. 

“ Oh, isn't it just lovely that our sextet is not to be 
separated ! ” exclaimed Clara. 

“ But Mansur — ” objected Raymond. 

“ Is coming to Bangor to practise,” announced Clara, 
triumphantly. 

“ Perhaps that’s why Janet was willing to go,” sug- 
gested Ned, with a furtive smile. 

“ Who knows ? ” she answered. 

Two days later, as Raymond, clad in cap and gown, 
emerged from the college hall, diploma in hand, he 
found Janet waiting for him by the front door. 

“ You did beautifully. I was proud of you,” she 
whispered, affectionately, as they strolled leisurely down 
one of the shady college walks. 

“ If you liked it, I am satisfied.” 

“ You mustn’t rest your efforts on my poor judg- 
ment,” she protested, sweetly. “ Let us work together, 
love, to merit and win the good opinion of the world — 
our world.” 

For a moment neither spoke. The eyes of both were 
upon the familiar scenes of the campus, transformed 
and glorified in the flooding light of the beautiful June 
day. 

Presently Raymond drew a long breath. “ I have 
dreaded to leave here,” he said. “ This place will 


382 


THE KENTON PINES 


always be hallowed with sacred memories of happy 
associations — in which, thank God ! we both have had 
a share.” 

He held up his diploma. “ This officially marks the 
end of the college course,” he said. “ Still — ” 

He was suddenly silent. 

“Still, what?” she questioned, softly. 

“ With you by my side, Janet,” he added, gently, 
“ I shall look forward with hope and confidence to the 
new life — to the dawn of the new day.” 


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price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 





PHILLIPS EXETER SERIES 
By A. T. DUDLEY 

Cloth, i2mo Illustrated by Charles Copeland Price per volume, $1.25 


FOLLOWING THE BALL 

H ERE is an up-to-date story presenting American boarding-school 
life and modern athletics. Football is an important feature, but it 
is a story of character formation in which athletics play an important part. 

“ Mingled with the story of football is another and higher endeavor, giving the 
book the best of moral tone.” — Chicago Record-Herald. 

MAKING THE NINE 

T HE life presented is that of a real school, interesting, diversified, 
and full of striking incidents, while the characters are true and 
consistent types of American boyhood aud youth. The athletics are 
technically correct, abounding in helpful suggestions, and the moral 
tone is high and set by action rather than preaching. 

“The story is healthful, for, while it exalts athletics, it does not overlook the 
fact that studious habits and noble character are imperative needs for those who 
would win success in life.” — Herald and Presbyter , Cincinnati. 

IN THE LINE 

T ELLS how a stalwart young student won his position as guard, and 
at the same time made equally marked progress in the formation of 
character. Plenty of jolly companions contribute a strong, humorous 
element, and the book has every essential of a favorite. 

“The book gives boys an interesting story, much football information, and many 
lessons in true manliness.” — Watchman , Boston. 


With Mask and Mitt 

W HILE baseball plays an important part 
in this story, it is not the only element 
of attraction. While appealing to the natural 
normal tastes of boys for fun and interest in 
the national game, the book, without preach- 
ing, lays emphasis on the building up of 
character. 

“No normal boy who is interested in our great 
national game can fail to find interest and profit, too, 
in this lively boarding-school story.” — Interior % 
Chicago. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by tl e publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 



THE GREGORY GUARDS 

By Emma Lee Benedict Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill i2mo $1.25 

A YOUNG man of wealth is trustee for a 
fund to help boys and chooses six to pass 
the summer at his home on an island near New 
York. These lads of widely different tempera- 
ments in true boy fashion form a “club,” 
whose highest purpose it is to watch over the 
property and interests of their benefactor, and 
to which they give his name. All profit in great 
measure from a summer that is a turning point in 
their lives. A story of reaping good by doing 
good, bright and entertaining and full of life, 
incident, and good sense. 

“ It is a story along novel lines, and may be warmly 
commended.” — St. Louis Globe. Democrat. 

THe Young Vigilantes 

A Story of California Life in the Fifties 

By Samuel Adams Drake Illustrated by L. J. 

Bridgman Price $1.25 

F EW men now remain who can describe the 
“Forty-Niners” from personal knowledge 
and experience, and the very best one of them 
is the noted historical writer, Col. Drake. One 
of two young chums in Boston yields to the ex- 
citement of the day and goes to California, partly 
at his friend’s expense. Later, the hero of the story 
is driven by injustice to make his way thither via 
the route across Nicaragua, befriended by an old 
sailor. A reunion and exciting experiences in San 
Francisco follow. 

" The book is a bright, able, and wholesome contribution to the knowledge of 
our country’s progress.” — Religious Telescope, Dayton, O. 

Joe’s Signal Code 

By W. Reiff Hesser Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill $1.25 

T HIS book tells of the abandoning of a fine ship with its cargo in the 
Pacific Ocean. The leading characters, who are to leave in the last 
boat, had their escape cut off by its destruction, but succeed in saving the 
ship and lead a most interesting life for more than a year on a hitherto 
unknown island. 

“The boys will enjoy it from cover to cover. The book is many degrees above 
the ordinary story.” — American Boy , Detroit. 

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 




JACK TENFIELD’S STAR 

By Martha James Illustrated by Charles Copeland Large i2mo $1.00 

J ACK TENFIELD is a bright Boston boy, who, 
while preparing for college, is brought to face 
the fact that his father, a benevolent physi- 
cian, and supposed to be well-to-do, had really 
left no estate. Jack resolutely defends his 
father’s memory, and makes the best of it. Cir- 
cumstances bring much travel and many adven- 
tures, in all of which his generous, manly 
character rings true. That Jack is capable of 
being his “own star 5 * well expresses the ex- 
cellent thought of the book, which is remarkable 
for variety of well-told incidents. 

“ A clean, wholesome, enjoyable book.” — The Anter- 
ican Boy, Detroit, Mich. 

Tom Winstone, “Wide Awake” 

By Martha James Large 1 2mo Illustrated by W. Herbert Dunton $ i .00 

W E have often wished that we could secure a book for boys like the 
undying ones written by J. T. Trowbridge, and in “ Tom Win- 
stone” we have a young hero whose story is told in a way well worthy 
to be compared with the work of the older writer referred to. The 
sterling quality shown in “ My Friend Jim” is all here, and “Tom,” an 
older boy, equally efficient in baseball, a foot race, or a noble action, is 
well worth knowing. 

“ Any healthy boy will delight in this book.”'— Living’ Church , Milwaukee , IVis. 

My Friend Jim 

A Story of Real Boys and for Them 

By Martha James Large i2rno Illus- 
trated by Frank T. Merrill $1.00 

J UST the book to place in the hands of 
bright, active boys, and one that the 
most careful parents will be glad to use 
for that purpose. The loyal friendship 
springing up between Jim, the son of a me- 
chanic, and a wealthy man’s son who is at 
Sunnyside farm for his health, has made the 
basis for some of the cleanest, brightest, and 
most helpful descriptions of boy life that we 
have ever read. 

“ It is a book that boys will like and profit by,” 

— Universalist Leader , Boston. 

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOS^O^ 




BOOKS BY EVERETT T. TOMLINSON. 


THE WAR OP 1812 SERIES 

Six volumes Cloth Illustrated by A. B. 
Shute Price per volume reduced to $ 1.25 

No American writer for boys has ever occupied 
a higher position than Dr. Tomlinson, and the 
“War of 1812 Series” covers a field attempted 
by no other juvenile literature in a manner that 
has secured continued popularity. 

The Search for Andrew Field 
The Boy Soldiers of 1812 
The Boy Officers of 1812 
Tecumseh’s Young Braver 
Guarding the Border 
The Boys with Old Hickory 

ST. LAWRENCE SERIES 

CRUISING IN THE ST, LAWRENCE 

Being the third volume of the “St. Lawrence Series” Cloth 
Illustrated Price $1.50 

Our old friends, “ Bob,” “ Ben,” ** Jock,” and “ Bert,” having completed 
their sophomore year at college, plan to spend the summer vacation cruising 
on the noble St. Lawrence. Here they not only visit places of historic inter- 
est, but also the Indian tribes encamped on the banks of the rive/, and learr 
from them their customs, habits, and quaint legends. 

PREVIOUS VOLUMES 

CAMPING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE 

Or, On the Trail of the Early Discoverers 

Cloth Illustrated $1.50 

THE HOUSE-BOAT ON THE ST. LAWRENCE 
Or, Following Frontenac 
Cloth Illustrated $ 1.50 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

STORIES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION 
First and Second Series Cloth Illustrated $1.00 each 



Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.. Boston 


OUR OWN LAND SERIES 
By EVERETT T. TOMLINSON 

Illustrated Cloth, i2mo $1.50 each 


FOUR BOYS IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

How they Went and What They Did 

T HE excellence of Mr. Tomlinson’s books 
for boys needs no mention. He has fairly 
outdone all previous work in value, how- 
ever, in planning a series which shall acquaint 
our young people with the beauties and wonders 
of their own country, and he knows well how to 
do this by giving his characters an uniquely good 
time while acquiring the knowledge which comes 
from intelligent travel. Four boy friends who 
chance to represent respectively the northern, 
southern, eastern, and western sections of our 
country, join in a trip up the Great Lakes to 
Duluth, where they take a private car furnished by the father of one 
of them and go on to the world-famous Yellowstone Park, in which 
they have an abundance of adventure and enjoyment. The book opens 
an entirely new field in juvenile literature and will be welcomed accord- 
ingly. The spirited illustrations by Mr. Edwards are worthy of special 
mention. 

"The book has a decided value in awakening in young Americans an interest 
in some of the marvels of their own land.” — The Interior , Chicago. 

"It is a delight. All who read it will like it.” — Western Christian Advo- 
cate, Cincinnati , O. 

"What no boy would hesitate to call ‘a rattling good story.’” — Living 
Church , Milwaukee. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


TH£ BO\ xAFTSMAN 

Practical and Profitable Ideas for a Boy’s 
Leisure Hours 

By A. NEELY HALL 

Illustrated with over 400 diagrams and 
working drawings 8vo Price, $2.00 

E VERY real boy wishes to design and make 
things, but the questions of materials and 
tools are often hard to get around. Nearly all 
books on the subject call for a greater outlay of 
money than is within the means of many boys, 
or their parents wish to expend in such ways. 
In this book a number of chapters give sugges- 
tions for carrying on a small business that will 
bring a boy in money with which to buy tools 
and materials necessary for making apparatus 
and articles described in other chapters, while 
the ideas are so practical that many an indus- 
trious boy can learn what he is best fitted for in his life work. No work 
of its class is so completely up-to-date or so worthy in point of thorough- 
ness and avoidance of danger. The drawings are profuse and excellent, 
and every feature of the book is first-class. It tells how to make a boy’s 
workshop, how to handle tools, and what can be made with them; how 
to start a printing shop and conduct an amateur newspaper, how to 
make photographs, build a log cabin, a canvas canoe, a gymnasium, a 
miniature theatre, and many other things dear to the soul of youth. 

We cannot imagine a more delightful present for a boy than this book.—* 
Churchman , N. T. 

Every boy should have this book. It’s a practical book — it gets right next to 
the boy’s heart and stays there. He will have it near him all the time, and on every 
page there is a lesson or something that will stand the boy in good need. Beyond 
a doubt in its line this is one of the cleverest books on the market. — Providence 
News. 

If a boy has any sort of a mechanical turn of mind, his parents should see that 
he has this book. — Boston Journal. 

This is a book that will do boys good. — Buffalo Express. 

The boy who will not find this book a mine of joy and profit must be queerly 
constituted. — Pittsburgh Gazette. 

Will be a delight to the boy mechanic. — Watchman , Boston . 

An admirable book to give a boy. — Nexvark News. 

This book is the best yet offered for its large number of practical and profitable 
ideas. — Milwaukee Free Press. 

Parents ought to know of this book. — New Fork Globe. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 

^ | ^ * Ce the publishers » 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 

















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